The Hamilton Heir (15 page)

Tim dialed. The tone stopped abruptly after four rings and he was afraid he’d gotten Dawn’s answering machine until he heard her breathless, “Hello?”

“Dawn? Tim Hamilton.” He cleared his throat. “I hate to bother you on a Sunday afternoon. I’m over at Mom and Dad’s.” A brilliant idea popped into his head so abruptly he voiced it without further consideration. Happily, it was also based in truth. “We’ve been discussing an acquisition and I need to see the Peterson file.”

“You need it
now?
Why?”

“I just do. Can you get it to me before six?”

“What happens at six?”

“Some of us are going over to the hospital to visit Dad and I wanted to take it with me.”

“I suppose I could drop it by the hospital on my way to church.”

Tim was exasperated. “No. I need it before that. Please bring it to the house. You know where it is, right?”

“The house or the file?”

“Both.”

“Yes, I know. I was there recently with Heather, remember?”

How could he forget? Images of Dawn in that beautiful blue dress still kept him awake nights. He schooled his voice to hide any telltale emotion. “Good. I’ll look forward to seeing you. Thanks. Bye.”

Just before he broke the connection he was certain he heard her mumbling. Thankfully, she was too polite to voice her negative opinion of him clearly and he hoped she’d have calmed down by the time she arrived. If not, maybe he’d made things worse.

Tim snorted in self-derision. If his unreasonable request did result in an argument, at least they’d be speaking to each other, which was a distinct improvement over their recent lack of communication. It was hard to run Hamilton Media when your executive assistant refused to say more than two words to you.

More anxious about Dawn’s imminent arrival than he’d dreamed he’d be, Tim went outside to pace the drive and wait for her. He knew he’d be the brunt of plenty of jokes if anyone noticed his unusual behavior but he didn’t care. He was going to be right there to greet her, to welcome her warmly the minute she pulled into the driveway.

And he wasn’t going to let her leave until they’d talked and she’d told him what had gone so wrong.

D
awn had held a fruitless dialogue with herself all the way from Hickory Mills to Davis Landing. What had gotten into her boss? He might choose to work overtime himself but he’d never before asked her to return to the office on one of her days off.

She’d found the file Tim had requested and had briefly leafed through it in the elevator on her way back down to the ground floor.

He must have finally worked his brain into a hopeless knot, she decided as she tossed the folder onto the front seat, climbed into her car and hit the road. There was so little information on those few pages she could just as easily have read the Peterson file to him over the telephone.

The notion of calling him back and doing just that appealed to her, yet she knew Tim too well to try. If he said he wanted the actual file, he wanted the actual file. Period. Being flexible was not one
of his virtues. If the day ever came that Tim Hamilton took things in stride, everybody who worked for him would probably faint dead away.

That silly thought made Dawn smile. Poor man. He obviously had no idea how unreasonable his attitudes appeared to others, or how much happier he’d be if he loosened up a little and led a less regimented life.

Then again, she admitted ruefully, she was pretty set in her ways, too, which was why she’d better hurry. If she didn’t complete her errand for Tim in a timely manner and get back to Northside ASAP, she was going to be late for Sunday evening services.

Pulling into the driveway of the Hamilton house she noted the glut of cars. Felicity’s ’59 Caddy was parked next to a motorcycle that was undoubtedly Chris Hamilton’s. Heather’s sporty Saab was missing, probably because she’d ridden over with Ethan in his SUV, but Amy’s Camry was present, as well as Tim’s familiar BMW and a few other models she didn’t recognize. The eclectic group of vehicles reminded her of an upscale used car lot! Either that or there was a dandy party going on inside.

Tim’s BMW was the last in line so Dawn stopped her car behind it. To her surprise, Tim appeared and quickly jogged over to her.

She rolled down her car window and held up the file. “Here you go.”

Instead of taking it, Tim opened her door.
“Thanks. Won’t you come in? We were about to have dessert.”

She checked her watch. “I’m really pressed for time, Thanks, anyway.”

He remained steadfast. “At least say hello.”

Dawn pulled a face. “Hello. Now let go of my door.”

“Sorry. I can’t do that. You and I need to have a serious talk. It’s high time we got a few things out in the open and aired our grievances.”

“I have no grievances,” she insisted, “except maybe having to run errands for you on a Sunday.”

“Okay. We’ll count that as number one. Let’s take a walk around the grounds and discuss others.”

“I can’t. I’ll be late.” She saw how determined he was and felt an unusual tugging from her subconscious. “I have to get to church.”

“Will it hurt you to miss once?” Tim asked.

That question pushed her angry button. Dawn bailed out of the car and confronted him with her hands fisted on her hips. “You just don’t get it, do you? Being a Christian is important to me. It’s what I do. Who I am.”

“I understand that,” Tim said softly. “I was brought up in church, too. But I sometimes wonder if God isn’t sitting up there laughing at all the rituals and rigid rules men have devised to try to worship Him properly.”

“You don’t like church, do you? Never mind. You don’t have to answer that. It’s crystal clear how you feel. You don’t value the faith you grew up
with so you expect everybody else to treat their beliefs with the same kind of casual disdain. Well, I don’t agree, okay?”

Tim’s expression was one of astonishment. “What’s gotten into you? You preach love and brotherhood but you’re not willing to let anyone else have an opinion if it’s not exactly the same as yours? What would Pastor Abernathy say?”

She opened her mouth to answer, then paused to give her brain time to catch up with her tongue. A simple truth from that morning’s sermon kept nagging at her, insisting it be repeated. She’d never preached to Tim, never dreamed she’d want to, but this particular analogy needed to be passed along. Now. Whether or not she felt ready to do so.

“Funny you should ask. Okay, fine. We’ll talk.” Turning from the car she started to walk toward a garden path that looked as though it circled the massive old house. As she’d assumed he would, Tim followed.

As soon as they’d found a shady site and temporary privacy, she turned to him and said, “I know I can’t explain this as well as Pastor Abernathy did but I’m going to try. Just bear with me. Please?”

“Of course.” Tim directed her to a stone bench. “Let’s sit here.”

Dawn shook her head. “Uh-uh. I’m too nervous to sit still. I need to stand.” She began to pace and gesture. “It’s like this—faith isn’t mental or intellectual, it’s emotional and spiritual.”

“Okay. I’m with you so far.”

She managed a slight smile. “Good. Let’s assume you’re looking at Christianity the same way a man who is scared to fly looks at an airplane. Intellectually, he knows that flying is safer than traveling by car but emotionally he can’t convince himself to actually take a chance and get on board. He’s heard all about what an airliner does. He’s watched lots of them pass overhead. He knows planes fly. He believes in flight. But until he actually gets on that plane and it takes off, he isn’t investing any real faith in the process.”

“What are you talking about? I know planes can fly.”

“This is symbolic, not literal,” she said, getting more frustrated by the second. “It’s about absolute trust. What it means is, you can’t be a Christian by standing on the outside looking in and hoping you’ll someday understand it all. Millions of people believe in Jesus with their heads. The key is to open your heart and place all your trust
on
Him, just like the man who finally climbed on board that hypothetical airplane. Unless you give your faith a chance like that, you’ll never really see how far it can take you.” She snapped her fingers. “If you don’t, you could miss Heaven by that much.”

“You selling plane tickets? Is that it?”

Dawn gave a self-deprecating laugh. “Me? I’m barely hanging on by my fingernails in the baggage compartment. I imagine Pastor Abernathy would be delighted to help you book your flight, though.”

“If I talked to him, would that satisfy you?”

“I’m not the one you need to please, Tim. God is.”

“I know, but you’re the one who’s been giving me the cold shoulder lately. Would you care to explain what that’s been about?” He smiled slightly. “And keep it simple, okay? No more fancy airplane stories. Just tell it like it is.”

Dawn was flabbergasted. Her jaw dropped. “You really don’t know?”

“Not a clue.” He raked his fingers through his hair and shook his head. “Honest.”

She believed him. He looked far too confused to be anything but sincerely baffled. “Oh, dear. I guess I owe you an apology then.”

“I’d gladly settle for an explanation.”

“It was the Sunday golf tournament,” Dawn said. “You acted like it shouldn’t matter to me what day it fell on so I assumed you were disregarding the importance of my church commitment.”

“You thought I didn’t care?”

“Exactly.”

“Why didn’t you
say
so?”

“I don’t know. My friend Gabi asked me the same thing. Let me ask you a question. If you had suggested we go somewhere on a Monday or Wednesday night and I’d said I couldn’t, would you have assumed I was being difficult or would you have remembered the meals-on-wheels deliveries?”

“I suppose I’d have remembered the deliveries.”

“Right. Because you think they’re important.”

“And because I ran the route with you. I am be
ginning to see your point, though.” A smile was teasing at the corners of his mouth, threatening to widen. “So, you weren’t turning me down because you hate my guts?”

“Of course not!”

“That’s a big relief.” The smile became a grin. “Where do we go from here?”

She looked at him quizzically. “Go?”

“Sure. I’d only invited you to the golf tournament because I wanted to see if we had a chance as a couple. What do you think? Do we?”

“A couple? Us?”

Tim laughed quietly. “Yes, Ms. Leroux. A couple. If we were kids I’d ask you to go steady. Since we’re past that stage, I guess we’ll have to just call it an understanding. I’d like to start seeing more of you, dating you, if that’s all right.”

He grasped her hands and held them tenderly. “All I ask is that you tell me when—if—I make another mistake, instead of getting mad and ignoring me. Think you can do that?”

All she could manage was a silent nod. Happy tears threatened.

Tim put one finger under her chin to urge her to lift her face to his, then bent and placed a kiss on her trembling lips.

Dawn slid her arms around his waist and closed her eyes. A single tear escaped to glide down her cheek.

As Tim gently kissed the tear away she knew her prayers had been answered in a manner that would someday carry them far beyond her fondest dreams.

Church the following Sunday was extra special for Dawn because Tim was beside her. She’d even asked for a substitute to teach her Sunday school class so she could devote all her attention to introducing him and making him feel welcome.

Pastor Charles David Abernathy greeted them at the door to the sanctuary with a firm grip and a smile on his freckled face that left no doubt how happy he was to note their mutual arrival.

“Dawn! And Tim Hamilton! What a wonderful surprise. It’s great to see you.” He gave Tim’s hand a hearty shake. “Got you with our food, did we? Those potlucks work every time.”

Tim laughed and pumped the pastor’s hand. “A lot of things contributed. Dawn repeated that airplane story of yours and got me to thinking.”

“Wonderful!” He directed a brief wink in Dawn’s direction. “I work hard on my sermons. It’s good to hear that somebody’s paying attention.”

She laughed lightly. “I’m afraid it may have lost a lot in the retelling but I did my best.”

“That’s all the Lord asks of us,” Charles David said. He looked to Tim. “If you’d like to talk about it more, I’m always available.”

“Thanks. I’ll give you a call in a week or so.”

“Good, good.” Nodding, he stepped aside to greet the next arrivals and Dawn led Tim down the center aisle.

“There’s your mother and Heather in the third row,” Dawn said. “Want to go sit with them?”

“Sure. Whatever.”

“I want you to be comfortable.”

“That may take a while. Being here on Sunday morning instead of teeing off at the country club still feels a little strange, but I suppose I’ll eventually get used to it.”

He hesitated and stopped her with a brief touch on her arm. “Hey, isn’t that Stuart Meyers sitting over there?”

“Where?” Her eyes widened. “It sure is. And look who he’s with! I’ve never seen Ada Smith here at Northside before.”

“Well, well. I’m glad I asked her to write that grandmotherly advice column for the paper. Maybe we should start keeping track of how many people make new friends after they’re featured in the
Dispatch
.”

“No kidding. I love this. Look. They’re waving. Aren’t they cute together?”

“Not as cute as you and I are,” Tim whispered aside. “I thought your pastor was going to split his cheeks grinning when we walked in.”

“What can I say? He’s a happy guy.”

“So, am I,” Tim said.

He took her arm gently and led her forward to where his family sat.

Dawn couldn’t help grinning as broadly as Pastor Abernathy had when she said “Good morning” to Nora, Heather and Ethan and saw the astonishment on their faces. They scooted over to make room.

Felicity Simmons and Chris Hamilton soon
joined the group. Dawn couldn’t help noticing that Felicity was wearing a sparkling diamond on the third finger of her left hand, especially since Felicity waggled her hand dramatically in front of their faces to display the new ring.

Tim stood and reached to shake his brother’s hand while the women fussed over Felicity. “Congratulations, Chris.”

“Thanks.”

Heather leaned forward and smiled at her twin. “Good going, Chris. You never could stand it if I got ahead of you, could you?”

“I did get pretty tired of seeing you and Ethan acting so superior,” Chris replied. “All we have to do now is decide which of us gets married first. I’d kind of wanted to wait till Dad was able to be part of the ceremony.”

“Us, too,” Heather said, patting Nora’s thin hand. “It won’t be long. I know it won’t. He’s looking better all the time.”

Amy, Bryan and Dylan slipped into the pew behind Dawn and Tim. The minute Dylan spotted his new Uncle Tim he told his daddy he wanted to sit with him, instead.

“Not now, son,” Bryan said. “After church we’ll all go out to eat and you can sit with Tim then.”

The child began to wiggle and whine.

Tim turned just as Bryan rose to carry his son out of the main sanctuary. “It’s okay with me if you let him sit with us this morning,” Tim said. “I owe him a lot.”

“That’s okay. He’s better off with the other kids. But thanks anyway.”

Puzzled, Dawn scowled at Tim as Bryan left. “You owe Dylan? What for?”

“For waking me up to what I might be missing if I didn’t swallow my pride and call you.”

“Let me guess. You didn’t really need the Peterson file?”

“Nope.”

“Whew! That’s a relief. I was beginning to think you’d lost your mind.”

Tim laced their fingers together. “It’s my heart I’ve lost, not my mind. Love must be contagious. It looks like practically my whole family has caught the bug.”

“Except for Jeremy and Melissa,” Nora offered sadly.

Tim sobered and Dawn grasped his hand more tightly to express her support. Before she could decide what to say, music began to fill the sanctuary.

Dawn looked up and saw Gabi marching in with the choir. The minute their eyes met, the pretty Latina smiled and elbowed their mutual friend, Stella, who was standing next to her. Both women focused on Dawn and her companion, looking as if they were so overjoyed they could hardly contain their glee.