The Forgiving Hour (5 page)

He turned his eyes skyward again, not saying anything more.

His silence was worse than his anger.

FIVE

“How ‘bout a sharing a burger over at the Burger ‘n’ Brew?” Luke Chambers, one of the cast, suggested to Sara on Monday afternoon at the end of rehearsal.

“Can’t,” she answered as she gathered her books. “I’ve got an appointment.”

It was only a little white lie. She didn’t have an appointment exactly, but she was expecting an important phone call. She had to get home. She didn’t want to chance missing it.

“Maybe tomorrow?” Luke persisted.

She shrugged. “Maybe.”

He gave a self-deprecating laugh. “I know a brush-off when I hear one.” He grinned, obviously not heartbroken by her refusal. “Well, I hope the guy’s worth it.”

“So do I.” She smiled back at him and took off for her apartment.

The sky had turned cloudy while she was in the rehearsal hall, and there was a sharp bite in the blustery wind that buffeted her back, pushing her along the cracked sidewalk. The weather felt more like February than April. She hugged her arms in front of her chest and quickened her steps. She was certain that rain would fall in the valley before evening, and if it stayed this cold, there could be a fresh dusting of snow on the mountain peaks by morning.

Sara was so intent on reaching the warmth of her second-floor apartment that she didn’t see the tall man leaning against the stair railing until she was almost upon him.

“Oh!” She stopped, looked up, then felt her heart somersault.

“Hi.” His smile hadn’t changed. It was as devastating as she remembered.

“Dave.”

“So you haven’t forgotten my name.”

“Of course I haven’t forgotten. But I … I thought you were going to call. I wasn’t expecting to see you until Friday night.”

His smile faded. “Did I come at a bad time?” He moved as if to leave.

“No!” she answered hurriedly. “No, it isn’t a bad time. Come inside. It’s too cold to stand out here.”

She stepped by him. In her haste to unlock the door, she dropped the key. Dave bent to pick it up. When he straightened, Sara found her nose suddenly mere inches from his.

“You’re very pretty, Miss Jennings,” he said, his voice low and husky. “Have I told you that before?”

She swallowed.
Yes,
she mouthed, although no sound came out.

He kissed her, right there on the landing. It was a chaste kiss, a mere brushing of lips, almost too brief to notice, and yet she was exploding inside.

This had to be love.

What else could it be?

It was after nine o’clock before Claire cleared the table. Dinner had gone mostly uneaten.

“Want me to do the dishes, Mom?” Mike asked as he followed her into the kitchen.

“No, sweetheart. It’s time you were in bed. School tomorrow.”

He touched her arm. “Dad’s okay.”

“I know.” She forced a shaky smile. “He always forgets to look at his watch, doesn’t he?”

Mike’s smile was as artificial as hers. “Sure does. All the time.”

Claire kissed his cheek and gave him a gentle push out of the kitchen. “Go on now. I’ll load the dishwasher, and then I’ll be in to tell you good night.”

Without a word of protest, he obeyed.

As soon as Mike left the room, Claire went to the window and stared out at the dark street.

What if something
had
happened to Dave? What if he’d fallen on a job somewhere and no one knew it? Claire wouldn’t even know whom to call. He hadn’t told her where he was working. What if it was a new construction instead of a remodel? What if he was lying in some unfinished house in an empty subdivision and nobody found him until a crew arrived in the morning? Or what if there’d been an accident while he was driving home? What if his truck had been hit by another vehicle? What if they couldn’t find his wallet before they took him to the hospital? What if—

Calm down. Stop it.

It wasn’t as if he’d never failed to come straight home from work before. There had been other nights when he’d stopped for a drink with friends and lost track of the time. She knew the likelihood was small that he was injured and helpless.

She hated giving in to her fears, hated the feeling of helplessness, of weakness in her own personality. Dave hated it too.

“Come home. Don’t do this to me.”

Claire wiped away the tears that had spilled onto her cheeks.

“He’s fine,” she berated herself, “and I’m not going to say a thing to him about this when he gets home. Not one word. So help me, I won’t.”

Sniffing, determined not to cry anymore, she returned to the kitchen. Quickly, she tossed the wasted food into the trash, rinsed the plates, and put them one by one into the dishwasher. Within minutes, all traces of dinner had vanished, the countertops were wiped clean, the dishwasher was whirring away, and Claire had brought her tears under control.

By the time she reached Mike’s room, he was already in bed, his light off. But he wasn’t asleep.

“What if something
has
happened to Dad?” His question was an echo of her own.

She sat on the edge of his bed. “Your dad is okay. I’m sure of it. Don’t worry about him.”

“Well, if he’s not hurt, how come he does this stuff to you? How come he has to make you cry?”

“He doesn’t mean to. Grown-ups aren’t perfect. We make mistakes, just like kids.”

“He oughta be nicer to you.”

Her heart ached, and she didn’t know if it was more for herself or her son. “He loves us,” she answered softly. Then she ended the conversation by leaning forward to kiss his forehead. “Good night, honey.”

“Night.”

The greasy spoon, located east of the city, was noisy with conversations and loud music from the jukebox. Several couples played pool at tables set near the back, the women clad in tight jeans and short-cropped tops, the men looking like cowboys right out of an old black-and-white movie, complete with boots and Stetson hats. The air was filled with cigarette smoke and the scent of hot cooking oil. Old barn wood paneled the walls. The floor, stained and sticky with spilled beverages, was nothing but a concrete slab.

In the dim light of the restaurant, Sara watched Dave pour beer from a frosty pitcher into two glass mugs. It had been three hours since they’d eaten their dinners of deep-fried prawns and thick french fries, three hours of talking, laughing, and holding hands beneath the table, and still neither one them seemed ready to leave.

“I really shouldn’t have any more to drink,” she protested as he slid the mug across the marred surface of the table. “I’m feeling a little tipsy.” She didn’t mention that she was underage or that her parents would skin her alive if they knew she was drinking. There was no point in reminding him of their age difference.

“You’re not driving, Sara. Go ahead. It won’t hurt you.”

Not wanting to disappoint him, she lifted the mug and took a sip. She didn’t care for the taste of beer, but she wasn’t about to tell him that either. She wanted only to please.

He grinned, as if he understood her thoughts. Then he reached out and touched her lower lip with his index finger, wiping away a trace of moisture. The caress sent a shock wave through her body. His smile disappeared.

He leaned toward her. “I like what you do to me.”

She was held, mesmerized, by his gaze.

“I wasn’t expecting to ever feel like this, Sara.”

“Me neither.”

He kissed her, a different sort of kiss than the one they’d shared earlier. This one was unhurried, slow, and deep, as if he were savoring every moment, every taste, every sensation. This was the way a man falling in love kissed a woman. She was certain of it.

When their lips parted, Dave cleared his throat. “I’d better take you home. It’s getting late.”

She wished they didn’t have to leave, but she knew he was right. She had classes tomorrow. He had work.

He stood and held out his hand to help her out of the booth. He didn’t let go until they reached his pickup truck. Before he opened the door, he pulled her back into his arms and kissed her again, with more passion this time. The intensity half frightened her.

“I wish you didn’t have a roommate,” he whispered huskily in her ear.

Sara knew what he meant. She was a virgin — not an easy thing to be in this sexually permissive age — but she wasn’t a fool. She’d felt tempted before. She’d heard all the persuasive arguments of her teenage boyfriends. But her parents had drummed into her head from an early age the importance of waiting for love and marriage, and it hadn’t been terribly difficult to adhere to that teaching.

Until now.

Was it
really
so important? she wondered as she looked into Dave’s eyes.

“I’ve never felt like this before,” he told her. “I don’t know what you’re doing to me.”

The words caused her heart to soar.

“Come on. Let’s get you back to your apartment.”

Once in the cab of the pickup, Dave drew Sara over close to his side. As soon as they were on the highway headed toward town, the truck in fourth gear, he put his right arm over her shoulders. It seemed a safe and wonderful place to be; she wished she never had to leave it.

Neither one of them said a word until the truck came to a stop in front of Sara’s apartment building. With a twist of the key, the engine died. The silence of night surrounded them. The light of a waning moon turned the hood of the gray truck silver. Sara could hear the rapid beat of her heart. Or was it his heart she heard?

Dave’s arm tightened as he turned and kissed her temple. “What time do I need to pick you up on Friday?”

“We’re supposed to be there by six-thirty.”

“Then I’ll be here at six. Until then, I’ll be thinking about you all the time.”

Sara undressed in the dark, doing her best to be quiet.

“Forget it,” her roommate said from the corner of their shared bedroom. “I’m not asleep.”

“Sorry.”

Patti turned on the lamp beside her bed. She covered her mouth to hide a yawn, then blinked sleepily. “You’re really falling hard for this guy, aren’t you?”

She shrugged, not sure she was ready to talk about it yet.

“Hey, remember me? It’s Patti. No romance escapes my notice, and you know it.”

Sara laughed softly. “Yes, I know it.”

“So?” She sat up on the bed, leaning her back against the wall. “Tell me all about him.”

“He’s … special.”

“Well, aren’t they all when you’re falling for them? That doesn’t tell me a thing. Come on. Give me particulars, Sara.”

“You mean besides the fact that he’s the most gorgeous man I’ve ever seen in my life?” She assumed the duplicate position of Patti, hugged her legs to her chest with her arms, and rested her chin on her knees. She closed her eyes. His image came immediately to mind. “When Dave looks at me, I go all warm inside. Like I’m melting or something. He likes all kinds of sports. He used to play baseball back in high school. He was the pitcher. He has his own ski boat, and he said he’d teach me to water-ski this summer if I want him to. He doesn’t like cats, but he has a dog, a black lab, and he used to go hunting on horseback with a good friend of his. Which means he knows horses, at least a little. He’s smart. He went to U of I for a year but had to give it up for lack of money. He’s had his own carpentry business for the past ten years.” She paused, then added, “I like his laugh.”