by Beth Ziarnik
Jill studied Clay. Would he understand her hesitation to leave until she was sure her father was over this latest episode? “Clay, you go ahead. I can’t explain it, but I have to stay.”
“Then I’ll stay too.”
Jill touched the side of his face, her heart flooding with gratitude. “There’s no sense in both of us waiting. Take care of your errand. I know it must be important. I’ll be fine until you return.”
“You’re sure?” He seemed reluctant to leave.
She hugged him, then whispered her consent in his ear. With the failure of the contract with Francesca, he needed to take care of loose ends.
He cupped her chin and brushed his thumb softly over her lips. “I won’t be long.”
Clay hurried down the stairs. The way her father looked, the man could leave this earth before he returned. He was counting on the fact that Alice said he’d be all right, and the jeweler would not wait much longer. He’d make this trip as quick as possible.
Even as he slid into his truck, his heart went back to Jill and her father in the shadowed sick room. Perhaps God would spare the man’s life, and all would turn out well. It was the cry of his heart.
Lord, please keep John alive and safe. Whatever is causing these setbacks, make it clear to those who can help him, and let it be something that can be corrected.
Jill searched her father’s face as he slept. He twitched. A frown appeared and vanished. He was so restless. Anyone looking at him had to know something was seriously wrong. Was Alice right about poison? As much as she didn’t want to believe it, what other explanation remained? She had to convince Alice to have his blood tested.
Her father stirred. His brow creased. He squirmed as if trying to escape. Was he having a nightmare? She stood to smooth the damp hair from his forehead. When he relaxed under her touch, she bent and placed a whisper-soft kiss on his brow just as Dora entered.
“What are you doing?” The woman’s sharp voice jerked Jill upright.
“I was trying to—”
Dora scowled at her from across the room. “Keep your hands off him. He has a nurse to care for him. Where is Alice?”
“I’m sure she’ll be back soon,” Jill said as Dora glanced about the room.
“I’m right here,” the nurse said as she entered the room. “Is anything wrong?”
Relieved with Alice’s reappearance, Jill took a deep breath. “I think Dad was having a bad dream.”
“Dad?” Dora bristled. “You have no right to call him that.”
As the woman glared at her, Jill refused to flinch. She remained calm. “He asked me to call him Dad.”
Alice hurried forward. “Let me have a look. Why, John is resting nicely.”
Before Dora had come in, Jill noticed it too. While she gently smoothed her father’s hair back from his clammy forehead, his facial features had relaxed.
Alice looked up. “You have nothing to worry about, Dora. John made it through this one too. He’ll be fine.”
Dora swept in for a closer look at her son-in-law.
To avoid being pushed out of the way, Jill stepped back.
Why did the woman have to act so insufferably rude? Had her son-in-law and Jill’s mother hurt her that deeply? True, it must have been an awful shock to discover her only daughter betrayed by her husband. Worse, to learn he had fathered a child in bigamy. But, Lord, it’s been years since then. Why couldn’t Dora realize Jill was not to blame for what her parents had done?
She studied the difficult woman’s rigid back. Perhaps some deeds were unforgivable in the eyes of the wounded. Perhaps Jill would never bridge the gap between Dora and herself.
And if she failed, would she also lose her father and her sisters?
Clay entered the jeweler’s spotless domain where glass and chrome-encased rows of sparkling watches, bracelets, necklaces and rings in velvet display settings. Beautiful, but far too pricey. He proceeded toward a man who stood behind one of the cases, arranging an exquisite ruby pendant to its best advantage.
The middle-aged man in the expensive pinstriped suit looked up as he closed the glass case. “May I help you?”
“You’re holding a diamond ring for me.”
A smile blossomed on the man’s face. “And the name?”
Within minutes, Jill’s ring rested on the glass countertop, nestled on a red velvet pad near its open white velvet box. Clay lifted the incredible ring in gleaming 18K white gold, its 1-1/2 carat pear-shaped diamond solitaire flashing as each facet caught the light. Its beauty and simplicity would delight Jill. Unfortunately, he was perfectly broke, and this wasn’t the season when people flocked to sign reconstruction contracts.
“And how do we plan to pay for it?” The clerk smiled at him and waited.
Clay set the ring back on the red velvet pad. “I don’t exactly know.”
The man’s smile vanished. He stepped back from the counter.
Embarrassing. “I had hoped we could work something out.”
“What did you have in mind?” The man’s tight jaw spoke volumes.
“I hoped you might have some suggestions. This was supposed to be …” His shoulders sagged. He should leave. This was going nowhere. “Look, the contract I expected fell through at the last minute, but I’m reliable. You can ask Charles.”
“The jeweler in Chicago who called to make this ring available to you on short notice?” It was no friendly acknowledgment.
Clay swallowed with difficulty. “Yes.”
“What would I ask him?”
Clay worked to restrain himself. If this was the man’s version of friendly customer service … But in a posh place like this, it was likely he had dealt with few beggars. “He can tell you I’m good for my transactions.”
“I take it that you now prefer to put the rest on your charge card rather than pay cash as you had agreed.”
“I can’t do that.” Clay squared his shoulders. His credit card was maxed out at the moment. “I’m asking you to hold the ring until I can get the rest together.”
The man said nothing. His stern expression made it clear he wasn’t considering the idea.
Clay ran the fingers of both hands through his hair. His attempt couldn’t have gone much worse. “You have my retainer. The only reason you still have the ring is that, unfortunately, my circumstances changed. Temporarily.” He studied the man’s features, hoping to detect a modicum of understanding. Of interest. Or sympathy. Finding none, he plunged ahead. “Look, this can’t be the first time this has happened. What do you do in those cases?”
“Have you considered a less costly alternative?” The man gestured toward a display unit of smaller diamond rings.
Clay scanned them and shook his head.
“Perhaps I should return your retainer, giving you the opportunity to look elsewhere.” The disdain in the man’s manner angered Clay, but he was not about to let the man win.
“No.” He backed away. “Please, just hold the ring a few more days.”
“Yes, of course.” The man didn’t look convinced as he returned the ring to its box, closed the lid, and moved to put it away.
Turning abruptly, Clay strode from the establishment. He’d have no choice now. To get the ring, he’d have to sell his old truck that meant so much to him. For sentimental reasons, he had hoped never to sell it, but this was too important.
He slipped behind the steering wheel, shut the door against the crisp winter air, and sat reliving the many times his neighbor had acted as a second father after his own father died. But he was no longer that boy, that teen who needed a man’s godly guidance, an understanding ear to listen, an influence to show him the path to becoming the man his mother could be proud of.
Carl had invested a lot into his life, but it never once occurred to him that when Carl left this world, he would give him his restoration business and this sturdy truck, one that a collector wanted to get his hands on. Clay had always declined the generous offer but kept the man’s phone number. Much as h
e hated parting with this truck, he had a greater need.
He fished the small piece of paper with ragged edges from his wallet. Then pulling the phone from his pocket, he started the connection.
With her head slightly bowed, Jill hurried from her father’s room. She needed a break from Dora, who had been unpleasant again. Fortunately, Alice was also with him. Lord, I only wish—
Oof! Jill bumped into a firm masculine chest clad in a well-cut suit scented with expensive musk. Brian. She stepped away. “I’m sorry. I didn’t realize—”
“I can see that.” Brian grinned, but his smile quickly vanished. “Has something happened to John?”
“He had a bad spell this morning. Alice tried to send for the doctor, but Dad wouldn’t hear of it. Alice thinks he’ll improve.” Did she look as distracted and confused as she sounded?
“What else?” he prompted.
He knew her so well. “I … uh …it’s Dora.”
When Brian glanced over her shoulder, she turned to find the door to her father’s room still open. Dora remained at the head of the bed. Had she overheard?
He lowered his voice and gently steered her toward the stairs. “Let’s go away from prying ears where you can tell me all about it.”
Chapter Fourteen
Clay shut the front door and stomped the snow from his shoes. After removing his coat and shaking it free of new-fallen snow, he hung it on the only available hook. He grimaced, not ready to enter the main part of the house. His failure at the jewelers stung. The one good thing was that Jill didn’t know and wouldn’t be disappointed.
His call had also failed. For all he knew, the man was no longer interested in the truck, but he left a message just in case. The matter was now in God’s hands.
Maybe it was just as well. God had an order for life’s events, and Clay had experienced often enough how God’s order was not only different but always better than his.
He entered the reception hall and started up the stairs when muffled voices came from a room near the front entrance. One was Jill’s. Had something gone wrong in his absence?
Homing in on her somber voice, he strode to the pocket doors across the hall from the darkened room where the Christmas tree stood. The doors stood slightly ajar. Seated on a couch, Jill leaned toward someone, their knees and hands almost touching, and sorrow etching her face.
He knocked to alert her of his presence.
She looked up, startled. “Come in.”
Pushing the doors apart, he stepped inside. Immediately, Caldwell leaned back and spread his arms across the top of the couch, one of them behind Jill.
Clay’s gut clenched, but he focused on Jill. This was her business. “I heard your voice and came to see if you needed anything.” He stepped back to close the doors.
She sprang up. “Please. Don’t go.” She turned to her companion. “Brian, would you excuse us?”
Caldwell stood, favoring her with a display of sympathy. “You know where you can find me if you need me.”
Clay’s shoulders bunched at the man’s arrogance. He schooled his expression to remain calm while Brian brushed past with a mere nod. He watched his rival retreat. Did Jill realize her old boyfriend’s interest had grown? He closed the pocket doors and turned to discover her right behind him.
When she looked up, he tipped his head in the direction of the couch she and Caldwell had just vacated. “What was that all about?”
Tiny worry lines creased her brow. “We were talking about Dora. Every chance that woman gets, she makes cutting insinuations. I try to be strong and forgive her, but …”
Clay cupped her slender shoulders in his palms. “How about starting at the beginning?”
Jill filled him in, ending with a shaky sigh. “The sad truth is the woman hates me.”
“I’m sure she does.”
She jerked back and stared at him. “What?”
“Makes sense that she would see you as a threat. As her enemy.”
“But—”
“You’re the child born to her son-in-law through another woman. A fact that will never change. One that obviously left a deep hurt she hasn’t resolved.” If she had, their situation would be much simpler.
Jill’s chin wobbled. “I wish I could do something about that.”
“You can’t do anything to change her attitude. She has to do that. But you can be kind and pray for her, no matter what she does.” He tipped Jill’s chin up to look into her lovely eyes. “In time, she’ll appreciate the beautiful person you are.”
Jill shook her head, barely moving it. “She’ll never change her mind about me, but I can pray for her and do my best to be kind.”
He smoothed his thumb over her soft lips. “It won’t be easy, but I believe in you. You can do this. Is she with your father now?”
“Probably not. She doesn’t stay in one place for long. Once she’s awake, she’s one busy woman. If not around the house, she’s involved in some committee meeting, charity fundraiser, or visiting elderly shut-ins.”
“In that case, let’s see if your father is feeling up to a brief visit.” He might as well face the man now.
Clay placed his right hand on Jill’s waist while she knocked on her father’s door. When no response came, she opened it and peeked in. “Alice?”
The nurse emerged from the bathroom, laundry basket in hand. “Oh, you’ve brought Clay. I believe John is awake. While you three visit, I’ll have time to put a load of John’s clothes in the washer.” She closed the door on her way out.
Clay’s eyes gradually adjusted to the darkened room. With heavy drapes drawn on the windows, Jill’s father rested alone in the shadows, no movement visible. A lamp on a bedside table spread a low-wattage pool of light, illuminating his face. John Ashley Taylor’s eyes were closed.
A floorboard creaked beneath Clay’s foot, and the man’s eyes flew open. John tracked them with his eyes as they approached. When Jill reached his bedside, a weak but tender smile blossomed on the man’s pale face, and eyes the same amazing color as Jill’s focused on her with unabashed fatherly love.
Clay watched the scene in awe as Jill bent over and kissed John’s brow. “You’re feeling better.”
“I believe so.” When his eyes shifted to Clay, they took on the hard, assessing edge of the lawyer he was. “I see your young man has arrived.”
Jill’s face lit up. “He came in late last night. On Christmas, just as he promised.”
John nodded grudgingly. Obviously, Jill’s father valued the keeping of a man’s word, and at that moment, Clay congratulated himself for leaving Haiti without further attempts to secure the contract Francesca held just out of reach.
Jill’s warm hand nestled in his as she drew him to her father. “Dad, this is Clay. Clay Merrick.”
“I’m happy to meet you, sir.” Maybe not happy, considering the brutal scrutiny with which her father raked him, but it was the conventional thing to say, and he had a notion this man expected conventional amenities.
“I have no doubt.” The man delivered his words in a labored manner. He went on with determination. “The important thing … is my daughter’s happiness. Since you are the current source of that commodity, I welcome you to this house.”
Current source. Did he expect—or hope—his relationship with Jill to fail? Maybe he had someone else in mind for his daughter. Brian? Hopefully, he would reserve final judgment until they knew one another better.
“Tell me something about yourself,” John prompted.
“Sir?”
“What do you do … for a living?”
Jill glanced back at him, her eyes aglow, which infused him with encouragement. He squared his shoulders. “I’m a reconstruction contractor, working out of Naperville, Illinois.”
“How did you come … to that … line of work?” His words were labored.
“When my father died, an older neighbor who owned the business gave me a job and trained me.” The admission blared, no college education.
<
br /> “Your father died?” Sympathy rested in the man’s eyes.
“Yes, sir. He was shot in a convenience store when he stopped to buy milk for my mom.” Clay winced, never quite able to utter those words without his gut wrenching.
“I’m sorry.” Jill’s father faltered, and his voice gentled. “How old were you?”
“Thirteen.”
The man rolled his head slowly from side to side as if processing the events. He said nothing for a few long moments. “It was good of your neighbor … to fill that void.”
No man could fill a void like that, but God had blessed him at a time when he sorely needed it. He would never forget Carl’s kindness and missed his mentor still. “Yes, sir, it was.”
“So, you work … with him?”
“No, sir. He died three years ago, shortly after I returned from being deployed overseas.”
“You’re … a military man then.” A spark of interest lit in the older man’s eyes.
“Finished my tour of duty two years ago.” By instinct, he assumed military at ease, alert for the next question.
Alice stepped into the room, and Jill touched his arm, her eyes softly pleading. “Clay, I think Dad needs to rest.”
“Of course. I’m glad to have met you, Mr. Taylor.” He was also glad to have made a positive connection with the man.
Clay took Jill’s hand as Alice approached them.
“I hope you two had a good visit,” she said, a slight smile on her lips. Then she turned to John and fussed over him, speaking in low tones. “And I’m sure you enjoyed every minute, John, but Jill’s right. It’s time for you to rest. But first … you must be thirsty by now.”
He nodded and struggled to prop himself on one elbow while she steadied him and moved the glass of liquid close with the bent straw near his mouth. After he swallowed several sips, she helped him resettle against his pillows.