The Promise of Rainbows (6 page)

How could no one else be curious?

But curiosity killed the cat, Mama was fond of saying. And the rest of her family might be hurt if she went through with it and tried to find their daddy.

She was between a rock and a hard place.

Flirting with the barista took her mind off her troubles, and she was smiling again when she returned to Susannah with a steaming cup of tea.

“You’re terrible,” her sister said, fighting a smile.

“I don’t see you pushing it away. I could probably drink another cappuccino.”

Susannah took the cup. “You’re too hyper as it is. It’s a wonder you haven’t been pulled over for speeding in that new car.”

She breezily waved the air. “I was yesterday, but I talked my way out of it. All you have to do is bat your eyelashes and say in the sweetest tone ever, ‘Oh, Officer, was I speeding? I didn’t know what the limit was. I was thinking about my poor mama.’”

“Did I say terrible? You’re the kind of trouble that gives the word a bad name.”

“Trouble isn’t bad,” she said easily. “I
like
to shake things up. Life would be so boring otherwise.”

While Susannah drank her tea, Shelby tried to keep from watching the family sitting on the other side of the coffee shop, but when it came time to leave, she gave them one last look.

The daddy was holding his little girl on his knee as she colored in a coloring book. When he kissed the top of his daughter’s curly blond head and tugged playfully on her pigtail, she had to bite her lip. Had her daddy ever done anything like that with her?

“She’s a cutie, isn’t she?” Susannah said, nodding to the little girl.

“She is indeed,” Shelby replied as they left.

Susannah liked to watch other children when they were in public and dream about having her own.

Shelby liked to watch other daddies and wonder what had become of theirs.

Chapter 5

Jake was sweating like a sinner in church and none too happy about it. Especially since Susannah was sitting right beside him. Her fragrance reminded him of honeysuckle on a hot summer day, and it was so enticing, he found himself grateful for the demure neckline of her simple green dress. Not that he would let his eyes stray today. He might not have darkened the door of a local church for some years, but he still had manners.

J.P., Tammy, and her two children were nestled to his right. The little blond-haired girl, Annabelle, had climbed over J.P.’s lap at the beginning of services to nestle in between the two men. She’d whispered to him in her church voice that she was in kindergarten.

He’d given her a wary smile and tried to edge away. He was sweating, after all, and she was so sweet in her pink dress stitched with little white hearts. Of course, she’d only scooted closer to him, which he couldn’t do much about lest he end up nestled closer to Susannah. People were already watching them with unguarded interest, and he didn’t want to add fuel to that fire. No siree.

His friend and fellow country music star, Rye Crenshaw, sat in front of them with his wife, Tory. Rye had given him a welcoming hug when he’d arrived five minutes before the service.

The temptation to chicken out and skip the service had been almost overwhelming, but in the end, Jake had promised Susannah he’d come, and he wasn’t the kind of man to go back on his word. Especially to a beautiful woman.

Correction. Decorator. She was his
decorator.

Of course, no one believed that. Rye’s sister, Amelia Ann, had given him a knowing smile before cuddling close to Clayton Chandler, her fiancé and Rye’s manager. They’d gotten engaged over New Year’s after a rough start, and the family couldn’t be happier for the couple.

Then there were Susannah’s sisters, Sadie and Shelby, whom J.P. had tried to protect him from on occasion. They had a little too much of the “fan girl” thing going on. He hoped they wouldn’t ask for his autograph after services, although he expected others might. The whole autograph thing still embarrassed Jake. It didn’t make sense to him why anyone would want his messy scrawl on a piece of paper—or, worse, a photograph.

The church’s hymns were mostly familiar, although there were some upbeat ones he rather liked. In fact, the church seemed downright modern if you asked him. The choir had played “It Is Well” and a song by Toby Mac called “Speak Life
.
” He’d blended his voice to harmonize with Rye’s, and J.P. and Clayton had joined in. He’d liked singing with his friends. Of course, it had only attracted more attention to their little section in the church.

He wanted to squirm in his seat.

When Reverend Louisa appeared at the pulpit, Annabelle rose up on her knees so she could whisper in his ear, “That’s my grandmamma.”

As he nodded to her serious little face, Jake felt Susannah turn her head toward him. The pull to look at her was impossible to resist. Her moss-green eyes were liquid and soft when their gazes met, and he almost broke his vow and asked her out then and there.

But suddenly he heard, “Grace can save,” and he swung his gaze back to the pulpit.

Susannah’s mama had silver hair that bobbed under a strong chin, the kind that conveyed she wasn’t merely a sweet ol’ Christian lady. No, he expected she could be tough when it came down to it. If that chin didn’t do its job, the red suit she was wearing would.

“I met a man this week who’d lost his wife a year ago,” she began in a voice that was as powerful as it was soft, rather like caramel candies.

“He was wondering how he could ever get on with his life,” she said, and then paused to scan her congregation. When her gaze came his way, Jake felt like she was staring straight at him.

“His wife had died in a car accident, you see. She was only thirty-two years old. God had seen fit to take her young, which made it all the more tragic. This couple had only been married for two years—not even close to long enough.”

Jake couldn’t help but think about how little time Booker and his wife had been given together. How was Diane even doing? He’d tried to call her a few times, but her voice had told him all he needed to know. It pained her to talk to him. His Army buddies Darren, Monty, and Randy had tried to reach out to her as well, but she’d been no more inclined to talk with them. Jake took a little comfort in the fact that he’d been able to help her out financially.

“I told the man I was so sorry for his loss,” Reverend Louisa continued, “and I asked after his name so I could pray for him. His name was Tommy, and he used to work in construction. Made a good living at it, but he felt like all his dreams for a family had died with his wife.”

Is that how Diane had felt? He knew Booker would have wanted her to find someone else to love. But had she? It really wasn’t any of his business, of course, but he hoped so. Monty had tied the knot over a year ago to a sweet-as-pie waitress after finally getting a handle on his own PTSD. He was the first of their group to get hitched after receiving his disability discharge, and Jake hoped it would turn out okay for him and the rest of his friends. But it still wasn’t fair Booker wouldn’t get his happy ending.

“Tommy said he’d lost his faith,” the Reverend continued, “like some of you have out there, I expect.”

Now he
knew
she was talking about him. Jake returned his focus to his surroundings. His heartbeat was increasing in speed, and he was sure those around him could hear the pounding. He recognized the signs of his PTSD returning. Anxiety. Disassociation from the present. Anger.

“I told Tommy that the only thing with the power to get us through tragedy was grace,” Reverend Louisa said, scanning the church anew.

Jake sat up straighter. Grace, huh? He couldn’t remember what the word even meant. Where was this
grace
thing the day Booker had died? Hadn’t he asked God to save his friend? The scar on his shoulder burned as anger spiked through his system.

A small hand nudged its way under his own large one, jarring him out of the familiar spiral. He looked down to see Annabelle grabbing his hand.

“It’s okay, Jake,” she whispered, her doll-eyed baby blues staring at him. “You just listen to Grandmamma.”

His throat closed in shock. How had she known he was upset? He wasn’t sure if he should keep holding her hand. She was so little, and he might hurt her without intending it. But when he tried to free himself, she squeezed his hand with all her strength and gave him a look that conveyed she meant business.

He turned back to listen, but felt Susannah watching him out of the corner of her eye. Would she follow the little one’s lead and take his other hand? Every time he was around her, he wanted to hold it. Somehow he always felt weightless when they held hands, almost like he was swimming in ocean water, which was totally crazy.

“Grace means a lot of things to a lot of people, and certainly the Bible talks about it more than its fair share. When I think of grace, I think of those moments when I’m struggling, and someone appears all of the sudden to help. Or when I’m hurting over a loss and my heart eases. Grace steals over you like the night wind. You don’t know where it’s coming from, but it’s welcome.”

Jake fought down his cynicism. There hadn’t been many moments of peace associated with Booker’s death. For all that he’d relived it over and over again in his stint with therapy or his lingering dreams, he’d never once said, “I’m okay with this.” Maybe he never would. Deep down, he wondered if he even should. When someone died tragically, no one could Pollyanna that away—at least not without making Jake want to punch them in the mouth.

He lowered his head, prepared to tune out Reverend Louisa. But Annabelle shifted beside him and crawled into his lap, keeping his hand clutched in hers. She stared into his eyes again—and he nearly jumped out of his seat. She didn’t look like a five-year-old now. More like a wise woman in the body of a child.

“Listen to her, Jake,” Annabelle whispered, patting his chest with her other hand. “She’ll comfort you.”

The whole thing was sweet, he tried to tell himself, but the back of his neck was hot with embarrassment. He hadn’t stopped sweating. And really…he didn’t know this little girl well enough to have her perched on his lap.

J.P. tried to remove her, but Annabelle swatted his hand away and shook her head, her little face mulish. Jake glanced at J.P. for help, but his friend only shrugged. Noticing that even more people had eyes on him, Jake nodded. He even gave a tight smile. This child had gumption, and she had it in her head she was going to help him, it seemed.

He turned back to Reverend Louisa, who was still spouting off about all that grace stuff. The words “hog swallop” passed through his mind, and anger crested in his blood. He wanted to walk out of the church and never come back, but Annabelle laid her head back against his chest, caging him in. Keeping him there.

He shifted again and caught Susannah looking on with a wrinkled brow. Who could blame her? It was like everyone knew he was coming apart, and over something as simple as a sermon on grace.

He should never have come to church.

“Some of you may be thinking I’m making grace out to be more powerful than it is,” Reverend Louisa said, and it was like she’d hit a bulls-eye on his chest. “You think that I’m a foolish old lady who doesn’t know what loss means. Well, I’ve cried over things I never thought could be put right again. Cried until I couldn’t cry anymore. I’ve even yelled at God and asked, ‘Why?’ And then, each time, I would remember the problem wasn’t for me to fix, whether I’d had a share in creating it or not.”

Jake stilled in the pew. It was like the woman was reading his mind.

“I decided it wasn’t always for me to understand why something had happened to hurt me and mine. God’s ways are mysterious, and I can honestly tell you I’m not always comfortable with the mystery, with the unknown whys and what-fors.”

Someone gave an “Amen,” and another person echoed it.

The Reverend tapped the lectern. “Those questions drive me plumb crazy sometimes. Why in the world would a thirty-two year old woman die in a car crash? What purpose could that possibly serve in the grand scheme of things? I told Tommy I didn’t know why he’d lost his wife, but I did know there was a power greater than himself that could help him heal from the loss and move forward with his life.”

Jake felt a familiar rush of sadness rise within him, one which made his rage seem small in comparison. He missed his friend. He couldn’t even watch the Arkansas Razorbacks play football anymore because of all his memories of watching games with Booker.

“To move forward, we sometimes have to stop asking why. Stop shaking our fists at the heavens. What’s done is done. It wasn’t fair. It likely wasn’t our fault. But now is the time to dig deep into ourselves and find out why we can’t move on if we’re stuck in the past like an old truck in a ditch.”

Anger spurted inside him again. Was Reverend Louisa saying this was his fault? That since he hadn’t been able to move on, he was wrong? His skin prickled.

“I asked the man what scared him most, and he told me he feared he would never find another woman who could hold a candle to his wife. He was afraid he’d never marry again, never have children. He was afraid he’d die alone.”

Booker hadn’t died alone, and that was one thing for which Jake felt grateful.