A Love Like Ours Page 14

  His smile grew. “I wasn’t sure you existed outside of there, either.”

  “Well, I do.”

  “Where’s Jayden today?”

  “He’s up at Whispering Creek, gardening with their landscaper.” So you see, Will, this is a perfect time to ask me to join you for an early dinner if you wanted. Since their last conversation at Cream or Sugar, Amber had been hoping that he’d ask her out on a date. Dinner, however, might be aiming a little too high. So far, he hadn’t even invited her out for a cookie.

  “I remember those days,” Will was saying, “when the girls were small and one or both of them would be out of the house for a few hours. It felt like a vacation.”

  “Exactly.”

  “And then I’d feel guilty for being relieved, since I was already away from them every third day.” He scratched the side of his head. “I don’t know why I felt guilty. That was dumb.”

  “It might just be a single-parent thing. Or maybe it’s just a parent thing. I constantly feel guilty about putting Jayden in daycare. Did you use daycare for your girls?”

  “My mom lives in town. For the last twelve years she’s taken care of them when I’ve been at the station.”

  “That’s wonderful.”

  “I don’t know how I would have done it without her help. She comes to my house and stays in the guest bedroom on the nights I’m gone so that the girls don’t have to mess up their routine.”

  “Is your father still around?”

  “No, he died when I was in college.” Sadness flickered in his face. “I think that’s part of the reason why my mom’s been so involved in Madison and Taylor’s lives. She would’ve been lonely without them. Do you have family nearby?”

  Old hurt stung her. “No. They live in West Texas, and I haven’t spoken with them in years.”

  He regarded her with concerned kindness.

  “I keep telling myself I should go and see them and . . . fix things.” Her laugh fell flat. “I’m a little bit afraid, I guess.”

  “You seem brave to me.”

  “I don’t rush into burning buildings.”

  “You have your own kind of bravery.”

  “Winston Churchill once said, ‘Success is not final, failure is not fatal: it is the courage to continue that counts.’ It seems like you and I have both faced some hard things and had the courage to continue.” A heated pause, full of what felt like mutual attraction, opened between them. She remained silent, because at this particular moment, she worried that failure with Will might actually prove fatal.

  “I better go.” He checked his watch. “I have to take Taylor to softball practice.”

  “Sure.”

  “See you soon.” He looked back as he walked along the path that led to the front of the building. “I’ll email you the bid.”

  “Thanks!” She waved.

  When he’d disappeared from view, Amber wrapped her arms around herself and turned, looking out into the budding spring captured by their tree-filled lot.

  In her younger days, she’d had one boyfriend after another. What she’d realized, since giving her life to Christ four years ago, was that everything she thought she’d known about romance wasn’t actually about romance. She had no knowledge of real romance at all. She had a bucketload of knowledge about sexual attraction.

  There’d been a time when she’d been able to put her hand on a man’s arm, lean into him, and get him to ask her out just that simply. She’d been able to proposition men with her eyes. She’d worn low-cut shirts and high-cut shorts.

  All of that had made her a great success at snagging boyfriends. They’d come as easily to her as a ball bouncing into her hands. What she’d never been able to do?

  Keep them.

  Not a single one of her boyfriends had lasted past a year. Even the primary man in her life, her father, had let her go. At eighteen, restless and full of stupid confidence, she’d fought with her dad and then left her hometown on a Greyhound bus. Three years and three boyfriends after that, she’d hit bottom: alone, broke, and pregnant.

  Until Meg had taken her in and until she’d met the God of unconditional love, she’d never thought she was worth much. Back then, her little books full of famous quotes had given her the only imitation of intelligence she’d been able to scrape together.

  For the past four years, she’d taken classes and studied, held down a part-time job, and spent every free second mothering Jayden. Knowing that men spelled disaster for her, she’d stayed away from them. The whole time she’d been learning and relearning how to accept God’s forgiveness. Even harder and more gradually, she’d begun to find her worth in God’s view of her.

  Amber made her way to the hero house that Lyndie and Jayden had made from a hollow tree stump. They’d added more to it since Amber had seen it last. A homemade ladder of twigs led to one of the windows. A dollhouse chair sat out front as well as two flower pots the size of thimbles. The flower pots even had green shoots growing from them.

  Unexpectedly charmed, Amber stooped to blow dirt speckles off the upside-down funnel roof. She picked a few leaves off the pathway and uprooted a weed.

  It could be that her dream of one day marrying was like this imaginary house. Sweet to look at. But wholly, entirely empty.

  She’d given herself permission to date again now that she’d reached a point of financial independence for herself and Jayden. And in Will, she’d even found someone she’d like to date. But Amber wasn’t sure how this new person she’d become should communicate her interest to Will, and she wasn’t sure whether Will had any interest in her.

  Will McGrath had integrity. Her own intuition and everything she’d learned about him assured her of it. Perhaps, even after all her years of trying to better herself, he could tell that she was white trash and not good enough for him. He knew for certain, of course, that she was no virgin.

  She set into motion, walking along the fence that marked the yard’s boundary. Will himself hadn’t had a perfect past. But she couldn’t really compare his history to hers. The consensus around town was that his divorce had been the fault of his wife, who’d been self-centered and unready to settle down. According to Amber’s friends’ opinions, Will had done nothing wrong.

  See? Different. Because she’d done a thousand things wrong.

  Amber really liked Will, and it was awful how horribly tempted she was to slip back into her old, familiar ways in hopes of making him like her in return. She had confidence in those ways. She could try putting her hand on his arm, leaning into him, and propositioning him with her eyes—

  “Amber. Quit thinking like that.” She continued to walk, working through the kinks in her heart, watching her flip-flops crush the grass. She had a strong relationship with the Lord. So how come her old way of thinking about men wanted to creep into her new life?

  Experience had taught her that her old way of thinking didn’t work. If you gave a man your body for free, then it cost him nothing to discard you when he was done.

  God, help me remember that you bought me for a price, she prayed. If I’m uncertain, then I don’t need to rush to do anything except trust in you. You’ve given me a second chance, and I don’t need to look to anyone or anything else to determine my value. She was a daughter of the King, even with her scratched-up past. She wasn’t just poor Amber Richardson from the wrong side of Sanderson, Texas, anymore. And she refused to exchange the future she wanted for the man she wanted right now.

  Jake had looked forward to counter-insurgency ops more than he was looking forward to this.

  Last night, when Jake had visited Lyndie at her apartment, he’d insisted that she tell him what he could do for her. She had. Now he was stuck and had no one to blame but himself.

  He’d arrived at Lyndie’s parents’ place a few minutes before two o’clock, which was when he and Lyndie had agreed to meet. He’d parked his truck in the driveway and stood leaning against its side, his boots crossed at the ankle, trees shading both him and the house.<
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  Of all the things in the world Lyndie could have asked of him, she’d asked for two things that were hard for him to give.

  First, she’d asked if she could tag along with him for an hour or so each day after she finished her riding responsibilities. She’d said, with such an innocent expression that he didn’t know whether to believe her or not, that she’d shadowed other trainers she’d worked for. She claimed that she’d learned a lot by studying their different training methods and styles of operations management.

  So, great. He’d be dealing with more of what he already couldn’t handle: nearness to Lyndie.

  Second, she’d asked him to come with her to visit Mollie, which was the request he was about to fill.

  Mollie. He remembered her as a small child who’d lain in bed or been wheeled around in a special wheelchair. Whenever his mom or Lyndie had wanted him to talk to her, he’d done so out of politeness. He’d always been uncomfortable around Mollie as a kid. She’d made him feel sad.

  He’d aged, but he didn’t expect that twenty years were going to make this visit between him and Mollie any less awkward.

  Jake pulled off his Stetson, set it inside the truck’s cab, then ran his fingers through his hair a few times.

  Lyndie had arrived at work and ridden for him today just like she always did, despite her fall. She’d hidden her pain from him very well. Which only concerned him more, because his sixth sense told him that she was hurting. She just wasn’t showing it to him.

  The whole time he’d watched her exercise his horses he’d dressed himself down for hiring her in the first place. Her riding had made him miserable with worry before; now it literally caused his heart to pound, his muscles to lock against waves of anxiety.

  Lyndie’s Jeep rounded the bend in the long driveway. He let out a slow breath.

  She parked and approached. “Have you been waiting long?”

  “No.”

  “Good, I’m glad.”

  Her hair was down, six shades of blond, and incredibly pretty. She wore shorts, a roomy black and white top with zigzags on it, and earrings so long they almost touched her shoulders. He didn’t think he’d ever get used to her beauty. It hit him fresh every time he saw her.

  She opened her passenger-side door, revealing reusable grocery sacks. Before she could lift any of them, Jake looped two around each hand.

  “Thank you.”

  “What’s all this?”

  She led him onto the deck that surrounded the house. “My mom doesn’t cook or grocery shop. Since I don’t want any of the people living here to starve, I supply food.” She held the front door for him, and he passed through into a house that smelled faintly of dryer softener. “Jake and I are here,” Lyndie called.

  “Your mother will be right back.” The voice had come from the living room. “She went to go get more scrapbooking supplies.”

  Jake set the sacks in the kitchen, then followed Lyndie into a living room that ended in a bank of windows overlooking more trees.

  “Hey, Grandpa.”

  “Hello.” Lyndie’s grandpa sat in one of two recliners that directly faced the TV. He tilted his head up to look at them, his attention immediately focusing on Jake.

  “I’d like you to meet Jake Porter. Jake, this is Harold James, my grandfather.”

  “Nice to meet you, sir.”

  “You’re the horse trainer?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Mike and I follow your racehorses—in other words, your Thoroughbreds. They’ve done very well.” Harold wore a yellow golf shirt and high-waisted pants. He had a head full of pale gray hair and a stare so intense his eyes squinted. “You’ve got a pretty good scar over there.” He tapped a bony finger against his own cheek.

  “Grandpa,” Lyndie scolded.

  “I think,” Harold said to Lyndie, “he’s noticed his scar.”

  Jake could still remember the despair in his gut the first time they’d let him see himself after the initial surgery to stitch together his cheek. He’d looked into the mirror and tried to make himself believe that the man with the angry, jagged scar was him.

  “Jake served with the Marines in Afghanistan and Iraq,” Lyndie said.

  “You were a Marine, eh?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “So was I. Korea. Once a Marine . . .” He waited for Jake to complete the saying, his brows lifted.

  “Always a Marine,” Jake finished.

  “Good man.” Harold faced the TV as an episode of The Big Break returned from commercial. Jake and Lyndie moved off.

  “Iwo Jima!” Harold barked.

  Lyndie paused. “What was that, Grandpa?”

  “Iwo Jima. The Marines. Do you know what I mean?”

  She shot Jake a pleading look.

  “Yes.” Jake raised his voice so Harold could hear. “The Marines were at Iwo Jima.”

  “Iwo Jima?” she asked under her breath.

  “World War Two battle against the Japanese.”

  “He’s always asking me if I know what he means. I almost never do.”

  They both washed their hands with soap that smelled like a pine tree before continuing down the home’s central hallway to a yellow-painted bedroom.

  “Hi, Eve,” Lyndie said.

  “Good to see you, sweetie.” A heavyset African-American woman rose from the pink chair next to the bed. “I’ll take my break and give ya’ll some privacy.”

  “Thanks. Jake, this is Eve, Mollie’s day nurse.”

  He nodded at the woman. In response, she smiled at him as she passed from the room.

  Lyndie went to the small figure lying in the bed. “How’s your day been, Mols? You look good.” She sat on the edge of the mattress and smoothed back a section of Mollie’s hair.

  Jake hesitated two steps inside the room, feeling like he didn’t belong. He was only good with horses. He wasn’t good with people who spoke back, much less those who couldn’t.

  Lyndie pulled gently on the sleeve of his brown sweater until she’d brought him to stand beside where she sat. She kept a light hold on his wrist; it held him prisoner more surely than iron could have. Her touch made him aware of just how long he’d been alone. It made him feel the weight of just how much he wanted her.

  “I brought someone with me today,” she told Mollie. “This is Jake Porter.”

  Thank God Mollie was blind and couldn’t see him the way that Harold had. His face would have terrified her.

  The woman on the bed wore a green T-shirt that said Home Is Where the Heart Is. Her thin arms folded across her chest. A blanket covered the rest of her. Mollie looked a lot like Lyndie and at the same time completely unlike her. She had wavy, dark blond hair pulled back into a short ponytail and facial features similar to Lyndie’s. But Mollie’s body contained none of the purpose and vitality that was so much a part of Lyndie. Her face was slack, her mouth half-open. Her wide and staring gaze aimed downward and to the side.

  “We knew Jake a long time ago”—Lyndie gave his wrist a squeeze—“when we were kids. He’s a trainer, which means he teaches horses to be great runners.” Her words fell off, and he knew she wanted him to say something.

  “Hi, Mollie.”

  Lyndie gave him a glance full of gratitude, as if he hadn’t just fallen ridiculously short. Honestly, he couldn’t handle her thankfulness when he was so rotten at this. He was a fake. A man afraid of a person who was as gentle as any person could be.

  He didn’t want to stay. This small, airless room left him nowhere to hide.

  Lyndie released him and started telling Mollie about their day and the horses he had in training. Jake strode to the room’s window, staring hard at the bird that took to the air at his approach.

  He’d seen vicious things during war. Bloated bodies in the street. Innocent civilians shot. Children killed. His own men torn apart and dying. Why, then, did it trouble him to see Mollie? She was harmless—

  Except she wasn’t.

  She was the opposite of harmless becau
se she made him feel. She put him in touch with his own sorrow. And his sorrow was a scary thing, black and deep.

  Lyndie’s voice stilled. Then, “Do you want to take a seat, Jake?”

  She indicated a wooden chair next to a dresser topped with a TV. He lowered into the chair, propping an elbow against the dresser’s side and bending the fingers of that arm into his hair.

  “When I come over I usually read to Mollie out of her devotional.” Two books waited on the low shelves next to the bed. One had a castle on the front. Lyndie picked up the other. “Would that be okay with you?”

  He nodded.

  She read a few verses from the Bible, then some application about finding peace in this difficult world. He watched her with burning eyes, watched her as if his breath would stop if he didn’t.

  “You’ve shut God out,” Lyndie had said to him last night, “but I think He wanted to show you that He hasn’t shut you out.” The stories his parents had told him about God when he’d been a kid seemed like naïve fairy tales to him now. A God who could listen to everyone’s prayers at once? Who lived in a place in the sky called heaven behind pearly gates? Angels? A baby born out of a virgin? Really? A God who cared about and protected those who trusted Him?

  If so, where had that God been back when Jake had trusted Him? When Jake’s men had been killed? Where had He been when soldiers and civilians were dying in Iraq and Afghanistan? Why would He have given Mollie the body she’d been given?

  It wasn’t that Jake had shut God out like Lyndie thought. That implied that he’d shut out someone he believed in. It was more that he didn’t believe in God anymore. Foolishly optimistic or weak or imaginative people clung to the idea of God so they’d have something to hope in.

  The sounds of doors closing and voices drifted to him from the front of the house. Moments later, Lyndie’s mom, Karen, hurried into the room wearing a brightly colored sweatsuit and pink glasses. She spotted him at once, a grin filling her face. “Jake!”

  No sooner had he risen to his feet than she wrapped her arms around him.

  He stood inside her embrace, stiff with shock over the fact that she was hugging him. She’d seemed tall to him when he was a kid, but she was so short that she hardly reached his shoulder. When she stepped back, she kept a hold of his upper arms. “It’s good to see you again.”