North Dakota Weddings (37 page)

But this? This was something new. He squeezed the broomstick.

Amber appeared stricken. Brandon would have to tread carefully. He didn’t want to upset her with his reaction.

To his surprise, she thrust out her chin. “You weren’t expecting that, were you?”

“Honestly?” Brandon’s breath caught as he searched for the words. “No. But I’m glad you told me. It was your brother who called you that night at Gladys’s?”

“Yes.” Amber put her hand on the broomstick, covering his hand. “Let me do this.”

Her hand lingered over his. He’d wanted to know if his feelings were merely one sided. Was she finally letting him know they weren’t? He released the broom to her and moved to stare at his computer, oblivious to the words on the screen. Her comment that he knew where she lived and worked made it sound like she was afraid.

Brandon grimaced. What did this mean for her?

An unwelcome thought accosted him, and he couldn’t ignore it. Could such a thing have any impact on the museum? Especially since it was on the verge of applying for full accreditation.

Brandon himself was only beginning to stabilize his career. With the news she’d just shared, even if he hadn’t allowed himself to care for her, could he afford to keep Amber McKinsey? Still, she wasn’t her brother and, as far as Brandon knew, had committed no crime. Yet more than Brandon’s personal feelings for this girl were at stake. There was Jim to consider. He’d been displeased that Brandon had requested Jason’s termination and had certainly blamed Amber. Then today she’d broken what, as far as Jim would know, was an actual artifact. And now, she had a brother who had served time in prison. Swiping a hand down his face, Brandon shoved the thoughts aside. He was overanalyzing, overreacting as usual.

While he tried to bury those feelings, he reminded himself that he’d asked her about her troubles. No matter what, Brandon would follow through on his offer to help.

“Amber, is your brother a danger to you? Is that why you don’t want to talk to him?”

“No, it’s not that.”

He touched the sleeve of her soft blue shirt. “I’m concerned for you. Promise me you’re telling the truth.”

She stopped sweeping and peered at him. After a long pause, she swallowed. “I promise he’s—”

Brandon’s cell interrupted her. The disruption annoyed him, especially since she was most likely on the verge of telling him everything.

He tossed her an apologetic look. “Give me a sec?”

A glance told him it was one of the museum’s potential donors—the call couldn’t wait. He had a feeling this could take a while.

To Amber, he said, “I’ve got to take this. Would you mind locking up when you’re finished?”

I
want to know what happened five years ago.”

The words from the phone call squeezed him like a vise as he drove home. His mind muddled with problems, he drove into the center of an intersection before he realized the light was red.

Uh-oh
.

Too late to slow down. Brandon stepped on the gas, pushing all the way through the intersection while looking both ways.

Honk
. Tires squealed. A blue minivan careened toward him. Brandon sped up to clear the path for the van. In his mirror, he watched the vehicle barely miss him as it skidded to a stop midintersection.

He’d already cleared the intersection himself and watched the minivan begin moving then continue through. Accident avoided. No harm done.

“Schew.” He sagged in relief.
Thank You, Lord
.

A close call. Hoping to make it home alive tonight, he focused on the road ahead.

Flashing red and blue lights in his rearview mirror drew his attention. “This is just the vanilla ice cream on my blueberry pie,” he said, and slowed, pulling to the side of the road.

Minutes later, Brandon sat in his car, waiting for the policewoman to finish writing on her pad.

She handed him the ticket. “Drive carefully.”

“Thank you, officer.” Brandon smiled and grimly pushed the button to shut his window. What a day.

His thoughts clouded, he’d been focused on anything but the intersection. Skidding breaks and a near miss had scared the living daylights out of him. Heart still racing, Brandon drove home and pulled into his driveway.

He trudged into the house and tossed his keys on the table then pulled out a frozen salmon fillet to thaw. Settling in his favorite chair, he thought about Ray Stockholm’s question again. He wanted details about Brandon’s previous endeavor with a museum. Brandon agreed to meet him for dinner tomorrow evening.

Would he ever escape all that had gone wrong? All his mistakes? And if that weren’t enough, he had the strange feeling he’d walked into a field laden with land mines where Amber McKinsey was concerned. She promised, though, that she was in no danger from her brother.

Everything needed to run smoothly. Over the last several weeks, there had been a few incidents. Jim had pointed out that Amber didn’t fit well in the environment, causing more problems than she helped solve as a volunteer. Brandon scratched his jaw. Jim was getting more difficult to read, patient with Jason’s blunders—though serious in Brandon’s opinion—yet intolerant of Amber.

Had Brandon not decided to mentor her after all, then Amber’s fate would rest in Jim’s hands alone. Brandon had stood up for her. And despite his rule to steer clear of protégés, he’d acquired one anyway. He believed in her. But he was the museum director, and his decisions had to have merit, avoiding the appearance of misconduct. He sagged at the thought, feeling as though he was already failing miserably.

Again.

Closing his eyes, he imagined her in his arms. It felt like she was meant to be there. But was he blinded by his emotions? Was he weak when it came to Amber?

He rose from the chair and prepared his evening meal.

“Lord, show me what to do.”

While his salmon sizzled on the small indoor grill, Brandon checked his e-mail and found a note from his colleague Dr. Young at UND, waiting for him.

Brandon skimmed the note, vaguely aware that his salmon was burning.

Troubled, tonight was the first time he wanted to skip his Wednesday night Bible study. Then he remembered—he’d invited Amber. Would she be there?

Amber rolled over, stunned awake by the alarm clock. Six thirty. She’d taken a short nap after work. Dr. Selman’s Bible study started in thirty minutes. She wove her fingers through her hair and tugged. What was she thinking? Did she really want to go?

Part of her didn’t feel like facing him at the moment. He’d had to rush away due to his phone call while she’d cleaned and locked up like a good intern.

To think she’d told him everything about her brother—well, almost everything.

She should thank the Lord for that—but she wasn’t sure where she stood with Him. He could have kept her brother away—that would have gone a long way in helping her to get on with her life. She sat up. If she were going to Bible study, she should start now. It would take ten minutes to get there on her bike.

Scrambling into the bathroom, she brushed her teeth while examining her bloodshot eyes. Toothbrush still hanging from her mouth, she slumped. She really shouldn’t go anywhere looking this way. People could see she’d been crying. Muriel had some eyedrops somewhere. Amber searched through the medicine cabinet, knocking toiletries everywhere.

Muriel stood behind her. “What are you doing?”

Amber spit toothpaste into the sink and rinsed out her mouth. “I’ve got to go, and I wanted to borrow your eyedrops.”

“All you have to do is say please.”

In her most respectful, pleasing voice Amber obliged. “Please?”

Muriel squeezed by to look in the cabinet and drawers. “Oh, good grief. Look at your eyes, chickadee. What have you been crying over today?”

“You make it sound like I cry every day.”

Muriel quirked a brow and thrust the eyedrops at Amber. “Keep it.”

“Thank you, but I couldn’t do that.”

“You think I want it back now? Ever heard of germs?” Muriel smiled and left.

Well, when you put it like that
. Amber finished freshening up. She grabbed her Bible from the side table and jammed it into her backpack then exited the cabin and hopped on her bike. Ten minutes until seven. She’d make it just in time.

The crisp air felt good against her face. Riding her bike had always been therapeutic to her—just like running. Lately though, she’d have to run a marathon a day to get the therapy she needed.

She rode her bike straight through an intersection without having to stop. If she kept this up, she’d be there early. Then she turned right into a neighborhood. Dr. Selman’s little church, Harrington Christian Fellowship, was nestled in this subdivision off Cheshire Street; but the Bible study actually took place at someone’s home across the street, so he’d said.

Her phone vibrated in her pocket. She hoped it wasn’t her brother, but honestly, he was the only one calling her lately. Maybe that’s why she’d decided to go to Bible study—she needed God to help her through this even though she blamed Him for it.

“Why, God? Why did You leave me alone in the world with only a criminal brother to care?”

The house across the street from the church was a cute pinkish color with groomed bushes. Several cars lined the driveway and curbside. Parking her bike near the porch, she tugged the cell from her pocket, ignoring her fear that it could be Michael. It might be Cams.

A text message from Michael stared back.

I
NEED YOUR FORGIVENESS
. P
LEASE, CAN WE MEET
?

A
mber’s feet were glued to the ground as though she’d stepped in concrete and stayed too long. What was Michael playing at? She wished she hadn’t looked at her cell, wished she hadn’t even come. Her limbs began to tremble.

No. She was done with crying. Grabbing the handlebars of her bike, she prepared to swing her leg over, leaving before she gave the Bible study a chance. But Michael’s text had thrown her off balance.

“Hello, there.” Dr. Selman spoke from behind.

Amber winced. Not likely she could get out of Bible study now. Despite the heat in her cheeks, she spun to face him. “For someone teaching a Bible study, you’re late, don’t you know?”

“You’re right. But considering it looks like you were about to leave, maybe my being late is a good thing.” He offered his hand. “Come in with me?”

When he said it like that, how could she resist? Caught in his intense gaze, Amber wasn’t sure when she’d placed her hand in his. Holding hands, they strolled to the front door, though Amber felt more like she’d been gliding. Before entering, Dr. Selman squeezed her hand and winked then released her.

Not that she believed he would actually walk into the Bible study holding her hand, but when he let go, her momentary contentment fled. He opened the door without knocking and waited for her to go in ahead of him.

Vehemently, she shook her head. “I…I can’t. I don’t know these people. Please, you go first.”

“Dr. Selman.” A short, stout woman appeared in the foyer, beaming warmth. “I was getting worried.”

In the shuffle, Amber found herself standing in the living room. Where were all the people?

“Sorry I’m late, something came up.” He grazed Amber with a glance.

The woman smiled at Amber. “I see.”

“Oh no, he was late before he saw me.” What an idiot she was.

“No matter, dear.” She gently touched the back of Amber’s arm. “We’re congregating in the kitchen. Decided to snack first since our leader wasn’t here. I’m Claire, by the way.”

Amber introduced herself and followed Claire and Dr. Selman into the kitchen, where the sound of soft conversation and laughter mingled with crunching chips. Come to think of it, she hadn’t eaten, having taken a nap after getting home. She took the offer of a soda and began dipping chips into guacamole while she listened to the group, which included Claire and Donita, both fiftyish women and a thirty-something man who was a police officer, two guys and a girl all in their twenties. An interesting demographic for a Bible study.

Finally, the group ended up in the living room, sitting comfortably on one of two leather burgundy sofas, floral chairs, and a few large pillows. One of the guys dragged a couple of kitchen chairs into the room. A candle burned here and there, giving the room a soft glow and nice vanilla scent.

The scene brought back good memories of life before Amber’s mother and sister were killed, of life before Michael had been arrested. How she longed for that time once again.

I don’t know if I can ever forgive you, Michael…
.

Everyone sat with their Bibles in their laps, either closed or flipped open. Amber did the same, opening her Bible to a random passage. The group members hadn’t gotten serious yet, with several still chatting.

One of the younger guys sat next to Amber on the sofa, a little too close for her comfort.