Tender Vow (31 page)

“Are you…um, coming back again? Meagan and Johnny love seeing you.”

He tipped his chin down and fought back a grin. “Meagan and Johnny, huh?”

“Well, I—I enjoyed seeing you, too.”

So, was that her way of inviting him back? “I don’t know,” he said with as much nonchalance as he could muster. “Probably not anytime soon. Work will be picking up again.”

Her face noticeably dropped, and his heart leaped, but he maintained calm. “Rachel, you said yourself it wouldn’t work between us, remember? Do you still believe that?”

She bit her lower lip, and her shoulders went up and down in a tiny, noncommittal shrug.

He touched the tip of her nose. “Well, until you can give me a more definitive answer, I can’t come around. It wouldn’t do either of us any good, much less the kids. I’ll try to pop in to see them when they’re at Mom and Dad’s.”

Her nod came off weak and unsure. Leaving was the toughest decision he’d made in a long while, but he had no qualms about doing it. Until she made a wholehearted commitment to love him without reservations, he would not kiss her again or go out of his way to see her.

She left him no alternative.

Rachel flipped the calendar to February, albeit two weeks late. Short, cold, sunless days became sparser as the daylight lengthened and the temperatures climbed ever so gradually. Southern Michigan reported unseasonably warm temperatures and an early thaw, while temperatures in Fairmount hovered in the thirties but one day reached a mild forty-four degrees. The sun had showed itself a record three days in a row, lifting the spirits of northerners accustomed to winters lingering until late April. Of course, the mercury rising made ski resort operators unhappy, since their source of income depended on frigid readings and plenty of snowfall. Yes, they fired up the snowmakers when needed, but any true enthusiast would avow that the man-made stuff didn’t compare to Mother Nature’s yield.

Rachel filled her days with household chores, meal preparations, Bible study, running the children back and forth to preschool and elsewhere, and visiting her parents and in-laws. One night, Allie insisted on going out for dinner and a movie. Rachel objected at first, claiming she couldn’t expect the grandparents to babysit every time the urge to venture out hit. So, Allie took it upon herself to arrange and pay for a babysitter, a teenage girl in the church youth group she often employed.

It was February 13—“Valentine’s Day Eve,” as Allie put it. Though she had plans with her husband on Valentine’s Day, she insisted on being Rachel’s “date” on this particular Wednesday night. Rachel hadn’t heard from Jason in more than two weeks. Afraid to ask Donna whether he’d called or visited, she’d simply learned to accept the apparent reality that he didn’t plan to call her. She missed him, but swallowing her pride and taking the first step to let him know it felt awkward. Did he really expect her to do that? The notion tied her heart into a huge knot. Worse was the memory of that last, searing kiss.

John’s kisses had always been nice, but she’d somehow grown accustomed to them over the years, just as she had gotten used to their stable, comfortable, somewhat lackluster marriage. Oh, there’d been no question of their mutual love, but when it came to romance, John was no Don Juan. It hadn’t dampened things between them, though, since she’d come to accept the fact that she hadn’t married Romeo.

With John, there’d been a level of coziness, honesty, and freedom, all worthy components of a happy marriage, but with Jay—well, the impassioned kisses they had shared unfortunately made her long for more. The memory of each one seemed imprinted on her heart, tempting and teasing her to consider loving again.

Had she committed her heart to John too early? Thinking back, she’d married so young, barely out of high school, and minus all the bells and whistles. She could scarcely believe her parents had allowed it, but when she recalled those days, she realized they’d almost expected it. In some ways, it had been like an arranged marriage, especially considering how close their two families had been. Her naïveté surely must have shown back then, and she was struck by how much she’d learned about her inner self over the past several months. She supposed that’s what pain and loss did to a person—forced her to look within and face her true self.

Well, no matter. She determined to enjoy her night out with Allie, even if she never heard another word from Jason. Yet, even as she mustered her resolve, she couldn’t shake off the gnawing worry that he might never call again.

***

Jason put on his workout clothes and running shoes after an evening spent at the computer in his home office, answering e-mails, balancing his checkbook, catching up on paperwork, and preparing invoices. As usual, he’d put these things off till the last possible minute, until he was no longer able to enter his office and see the clutter without getting a queasy feeling in his stomach. Now, with the necessary papers filed, his desk tidied, and his computer put to sleep, he was about to go for a moonlight run. He’d put in several long workdays in a row and figured running off his pent-up frustrations would do him good. It wasn’t that things weren’t going smoothly at work. No, his foreman, Todd Carter, needed little direction when it came to the job. He ordered materials, lined up subcontractors, and kept everyone on task so that they met their deadlines. Of course, he consulted Jay when needed, but he mostly just did his job, giving Jason the opportunity to field calls from the office, meet with clients and developers, and drive to the various sites to check on progress.

Truth be told, his frustrations were mostly from missing Rachel and the kids. Tomorrow was Valentine’s Day, and here he was, stuck without a sweetheart. He couldn’t count the number of times he’d thought about sending her flowers but stopped himself before picking up the phone to place the order. He could get the kids something, he realized, but that would necessitate including Rachel, too, something he wasn’t prepared to do.

He layered on several sweatshirts, which made him think about the process of bundling up for a day on the ski slopes. Funny how his priorities had taken a drastic turn. Stranger still how disaster and tragedy could turn off the appeal of former passions.

He looked at his unmade, king-sized four-poster bed and cluttered room, where stuff was strewn about helter-skelter—everything from dirty dishes to soiled socks, tattered magazines to wrinkled shirts. Even his
NIV Study Bible
lay open on top of his disheveled comforter.

“I need a wife,” he murmured as he kicked a shoe out of the way. Immediately, his mind drifted to Rachel, as it had done a thousand times before.

Would she ever call? Maybe he should call her—just a friendly call, of course, nothing serious. He could say that his main purpose for calling was to inquire after the kids. With every passing day, his patience grew thinner, like mountain air. Still, something inside him told him to ride it out, take each day as it came, and place his total trust in the Lord. In his nightly ritual of Bible reading, he’d come across a Scripture passage in Isaiah that kept echoing in his mind: “
Forget the former things; do not dwell on the past. See, I am doing a new thing! Now it springs up; do you not see it? I am making a way in the desert and streams in the wasteland.
” Somehow, he knew God had his and Rachel’s best interests in mind. Now, if only he could let go and let God have full control.

With a sigh, he flipped off his bedroom light and made for the stairs, glancing over the railing at his unkempt living room below. He bounded down the stairs but nearly lost his footing when the doorbell rang as he hit the bottom step. Nobody rang his doorbell these days! His heavy work schedule and deliberate withdrawal from the social scene since becoming a Christian had cut down on the formerly high number of people who used to convene at his condo following a long day on the slopes. Many were the weekends the old crowd had gathered there, drinking themselves into a stupor and then stretching out on vacant pieces of furniture or open spaces on the floor until Jason kicked them awake and chased them out the door in the morning. He grimaced at the memory, realizing he didn’t miss a thing about those days.

At the door, he peeked out the peephole, then opened it wide. “Dad? What on earth? Is everything all right? It’s eight thirty, and you hate driving after dark. What are you doing here? Where’s Mom?”

His dad slanted him a grin. “Can’t a man visit his own son? Everything’s fine, including your mom. Are you going to invite me in or make me stand out here in the cold?”

Jason cast a glance at his dad’s blue Chevy parked in a visitor’s space out front, then quickly stepped aside. “Come in, come in.” Jason quickly shut the door to keep out as much cold air as possible, then rushed ahead of his dad to push some newspapers and an issue of
TV Guide
off a chair. “Here, have a seat.”

Before sitting, his dad looked Jason up and down. “You’re all decked out in workout clothes. I’m not interrupting your plans, am I?”

“No, no, it’s fine.” Jason slipped out of the extra sweatshirts he’d put on and plunked down in a chair, immediately jumping back up when he felt the remote control beneath him. He tossed it onto a side table and lowered himself again as his dad sat, too. For a second or two, they just stared at each other in awkward silence.

Then, his dad glanced around. “Looks like you could use a maid.”

Jason couldn’t have agreed more, although a wife would have been more to his liking. He wouldn’t expect her to do all the housework, of course, but it would be nice to have someone to help get him organized. He thought about those days when Rachel barely kept her house livable and how he’d helped to get her back on track. How was it that he’d advised her on the basics of keeping a clean house but couldn’t keep his own place in decent shape to save his life?

“Wouldn’t hurt to hire a pretty one while you’re at it.”

Jason laughed. “I can’t believe you said that. Anyway, what brings you here? Can I get you something to drink? A soda? Some juice? Water?” He started to get up.

“No, nothing, but thanks. Just sit down. Please.” He did some more exploring with his eyes. “Been a long time since your mother and I came to visit. She’d have come with me, but she’s fighting a cold.”

“Sorry to hear that. You could have waited till the weekend. Don’t you have to go to work in the morning?”

“I do. Durn post office never closes in the middle of the week unless it’s a holiday. Too bad Valentine’s Day doesn’t count.”

“Speaking of, did you get Mom a card?”

“Sure did. ’Course, she reminded me,” he said with a chuckle. “I should probably take her out to supper tomorrow night.”

“You should. That would be nice.”

His dad glanced at the Bible lying on the coffee table. “I’m glad to see you’re reading the Good Book. You’ve sure changed a lot, son. I’m—proud of you.” The words came hard, Jason could tell. How many times had he rehearsed them in the car, he wondered? It didn’t matter. His heart flip-flopped.

“Thanks. I’m proud of you, too.”

“You are?” His eyes showed surprise. “I’m humbled to hear that.”

“You’ve done really well for yourself, Dad. Mom’s grateful, and so am I. You always provided for our family and even picked up the tab for a college education for John and me. That was a huge sacrifice.”

His dad waved his hand. “Wasn’t that much. In-state tuition, you know.”

He studied his dad’s furrowed brow. “Well, I doubt you came here to talk about college tuition.”

“You’re right about that,” his dad said with a chuckle. “I’ve come to…make a confession.”

“A confession? Really? About what?”

With a toss of the head, he combed four fingers through his thinning, gray hair and breathed deeply. “I made a lot of mistakes raising you two boys, and I’m not proud of them. Your mother says I best make some things right with you if I want to keep you around. I decided tonight was as good a time as ever to drive over here and tell you that.”

Jason smiled and folded his hands between his knees, then bent his head to study his sneakers. “I thought we sort of talked about this already—you know, back in the ER on Christmas night.”

“I know, but I just wanted to reinforce a few things.”

“All right.”

“I was hard on you, drove you more than I should have, probably even expected more from you than I did from John. Your mother says you’re too much like me, that I’ve always tried to live my life through you, somethin’ like that.” He screwed up his face and swallowed, making his Adam’s apple bob. “We both got a stubborn streak, you and me, but I gotta say, you’ve mellowed out. Wish I could say the same for myself.”

Jason grinned. “You’re not so bad.”

“That’s a stretch.” Now they both laughed. “But, seriously, Jay, I’d like to start over with you—if you’d consider it. I said some things regarding the accident, and I just want you to know, for the record, that I don’t hold you responsible.”

Jason swallowed the thick lump in his throat. “I know you don’t, and I like the idea of starting fresh.”

“You do? Good. That’s great. What would you think if your mother and I came down here Saturday morning to check out some of those houses you’ve built?”

“Fantastic! I’ve been waiting for you to set a date.”

A sly, somewhat crooked grin tipped one corner of his mouth. “We could bring Rachel and the kids. Want me to invite them?” Now, this was a surprise.

“Um, I don’t think that would be such a great idea.”

“No? Are you two on the outs?”

“I don’t know what we are right now, Dad. I’m waiting for Rachel to tell me.”

When the month of March rolled into view, Rachel flipped the calendar on time for a change. Something about the start of a new month gave her a sense of exhilaration, sort of like launching into a new chapter of a good book or having the chance to start fresh on an old project. Even though snow still stood like mountain peaks in parking lots, having been dropped there by city plows, and the temperatures struggled to get above the mid-thirties, the sun shone today like a crystalline ball, sparkling through dusty windows and glancing off salt-encrusted cars.