For A Father's Love

by JoAnn A. Grote

  Beth pushed at her hair and lifted her pointed chin defiantly. “I don’t hurt. I hate him.”

  “Honey,” Ellen protested, “you know you don’t hate your father.”

  She tried to pull the girl closer, but Beth pushed free. “Yes, I do.”

  “I think it’s time for bed,” Ellen said softly. Jason saw tears glittering in her eyes.

  “I haven’t finished my hot chocolate,” Bonnie protested.

  “Take it upstairs with you.”

  “I’m sorry, Ellen.” Jason spoke quietly. “I didn’t mean to disturb the girls.”

  Her eyes looked old and tired. “You didn’t say anything wrong. The fault lies elsewhere.”

  He noticed she didn’t say where. Was she one of those gallant mothers who never said anything negative about her ex-husband in front of his children? Difficult task, to put it mildly, but he admired her for it.

  Ellen stood. “Come on, girls, let’s get going.”

  Mandy leaned forward to give Bonnie a hug that was strenuously returned. Jason’s heart constricted at the sight, at the thought of what it would be like if Mandy was saying good night to their child, his and Mandy’s. If they’d had a little girl, would she look like Bonnie, like a miniature Mandy?

  “Good night, Mr. J. P.” Bonnie’s round brown eyes gleamed in a smile repeated on her lips, but she didn’t offer to hug him.

  “Good night, Bonnie. And you don’t need to call me mister, since we’re friends.”

  She grinned.

  Beth hugged Mandy with only slightly less reserve than her sister. Standing safely by Mandy’s chair, Beth gave Jason a small wave and a smaller smile. He smiled and waved back. “Night, Beth.”

  She bit her bottom lip, studying him. He waited, meeting her gaze. Finally she walked over to him, resolve in every step. She rested her hands on the arm of the chair and whispered, “I’m sorry your dad died.”

  “Thank you, Beth. I’m sorry your dad isn’t here too. Maybe sometime you can tell me about your dad, and I’ll tell you about mine.”

  She nodded, then ran across the room to the stairs.

  “Thank you,” Mandy said softly to him as the girls and Ellen reached the loft.

  He turned to her in surprise. “For what?”

  “For telling the girls about your loss. It’s good for them to know there are adults who lost parents as children and survived. It’s been awful for those girls since Zach left.”

  Jason’s nails bit into the palms of his hands. “When I think of him abandoning those girls, I’d like to take him out behind a barn and teach him a lesson.” He glanced at the pine-covered rafters and gave a short laugh. “No pun intended.”

  “Before Zach left I didn’t know I was capable of almost hating someone. I keep asking God to help me forgive him.”

  Jason couldn’t imagine sweet, patient Mandy hating anyone, even Zach. “I grieved when I lost my parents, but I knew they hadn’t wanted to leave me. Beth and Bonnie know their father chose to leave them.” He slammed his fist on the arm of the chair. “They’re too young to experience that loss of trust.”

  “Yes, yet they’re only two of millions of children experiencing it. All we can do is show them every day that there are still people in their lives who won’t leave no matter how tough things get.”

  She was right, of course, but it didn’t stop the girls’ pain at the moment. Still, knowing the children had Mandy and Ellen in their lives calmed him somewhat. They’d never let the girls down.

  Losing Mandy had hurt him almost more than losing his parents. He’d given her all his love, all his trust, and she’d chosen to leave him. On a much larger scale, that was the kind of rejection Beth and Bonnie must feel because of Zach’s selfishness.

  He forced his mind from the painful memory. “How did all of you end up living upstairs?”

  Mandy curled deeper into the wing chair. “I turned your grandparents down when they first offered me the use of the barn. Ellen kept after me to rent it. I was living in Asheville. Ellen and the girls lived here near Boone. After Zach left, Ellen didn’t want to disrupt the girls’ lives further by moving, but she needed someone close by for support.” Mandy shrugged. “So I decided to rent the barn.”

  “And live in it.”

  “I only meant to live here until I found an apartment. Grandma Tillie and Grandpa Seth offered to let me stay with them, but. . .” Another shrug. This time her gaze wandered away from his. He knew it was because of him that she’d chosen not to stay with his grandparents.

  She moved to the fireplace, opened the brass screen, and used a cast-iron poker to break a log into embers. “Things were tough for Ellen financially. Finally I realized it would be cheaper for all of us to live together here. Ellen and the girls loved the idea.”

  He walked to the hearth. Leaning his elbows against the massive oak beam mantel, he fingered a colorful wooden gnome sitting on a pine branch. “So now instead of just running a store, you help raise the girls.”

  She glanced at him sharply. “I like having the girls around. Ellen too.”

  “It wasn’t an insult. It’s like you to be generous with your home and time.”

  She poked especially hard at the log, and a chunk broke off with a sputter. “You make me sound like a saint.”

  “Hardly that. I remember a few faults.” Like not loving me enough to marry me. His conscience immediately kicked in. That wasn’t a fault, just the reality with which he’d had to learn to live.

  “Only a few?” A teasing smile lit her eyes before she abandoned the topic. “Ellen and I expected to stay here for just a few months, but it’s worked out well. In addition to helping me in the store, she’s working as a bookkeeper for a clothing store, but it doesn’t pay well. Living here gives her the time and money—barely—to take classes toward her accounting degree.”

  It probably never occurred to Mandy that most people don’t consider themselves their sister’s keeper, Jason thought. “Good for her. Sounds like she’s got guts.”

  Mandy nodded, and he watched lights dance in her hair. “She has.” She closed the grate and replaced the cast-iron poker in its stand. “So does Grandpa Seth. I’m sorry I missed visiting with him tonight. How is he doing?”

  The weight of the world seemed to drop back onto his shoulders. “He’s still scheduled for surgery first thing tomorrow.”

  She rested her hand on Jason’s, but almost before his mind could register her hand’s softness or his heart skip a beat at the joy from her once-familiar touch, she withdrew it. He pretended not to notice. Isn’t that what she’d want? “Dr. Monroe says Gramps’s chance of coming through well are good,” he said, “but there’s always a possibility. . .”

  “The operation is so standard now. It’s not as risky as it once was.”

  He nodded and wondered whether she could tell how forced his smile was. “Thanks for the reminder.”

  “You look so tired.”

  The huskiness in her voice drew his gaze to hers. The concern he saw there for himself warmed his heart. “I guess I am.” He rested his forehead on the back of his hand. He’d thought himself strong enough to support his grandparents, but after only five days, weariness engulfed him. “When my parents died, Gram and Gramps were the strong ones, always there for me even though they’d lost a daughter. Now Gram leans on me. For the first time, I can see how vulnerable she is beneath the image she’s worn all these years.”

  “Her strength has always rested in her faith in God, but I think the love between her and Grandpa Seth is another part of her strength.”

  He nodded. “And now she’s afraid she might lose that.” He sighed deeply and closed his eyes. “So am I.”

  “I’m so sorry this has happened, Jason.”

  Her soft voice and gentle touch on his arm brought sudden tears to his eyes. He squeezed his lids tightly. He reached for her. Sliding his arms around her waist, he buried his face in her neck beneath a silky wave of hair to hide his tears from her. She stirre
d, and thinking she was going to pull away, he tightened his hold.

  He felt her stiffen. Heard her gasp softly as if in surprise. Then she rested her palms on his shoulders. She barely touched him at first. Slowly she slipped her arms around his neck and hugged him tightly.

  The strength he’d demanded of himself—forcing himself to stuff his emotions into hiding—collapsed. He felt it break, felt the emotions he’d struggled to dam up flood through him. With a shudder, a sob wrenched from him.

  Seven

  Mandy felt Jason’s chest jerk in his attempt to stifle a sob. The force of the buried cry seemed to rip through his body.

  I love you, Jason. The words repeated in Mandy’s mind while she held him. Her chest ached with her desire to heal the pain caused by the fear his grandfather might die, but she knew only God had that capability.

  Besides, she had no reason to believe Jason wanted to hear her words of love. No reason to believe the words would give him even a modicum of comfort. No reason to believe he’d want the kiss she longed to press to his temple.

  So she simply continued to hold him, her cheek against his hair, stroking the back of his head lightly, her heart crimped in empathy. Wonder at the familiarity of him filtered through her concern. Her hands and arms remembered the way he felt beneath her touch.

  Soon his chest stopped heaving with the sobs he held within himself. His cheek remained on her shoulder where a warm dampness seeped through her sweater. She knew it was his tears. The knowledge brought tears to her own eyes.

  They stood that way a long time. Finally his hold loosened, though his arms remained around her waist. He straightened, and Mandy loosened her hold also, resting her hands on his shoulders.

  When his gaze met hers, she saw no tears in his eyes. Apprehension looked out from them, but he only said, “I’m sorry.”

  “You’re entitled to worry about your grandfather.”

  “Yeah.” He released his hold and stepped back. “I’d better get going. Need to get up early tomorrow. Gramps’s surgery is scheduled for seven. Gram and I want to be there.”

  Mandy clasped her hands behind her back, trying to act as though her heart wasn’t slamming against her ribs from recently holding Jason in her arms. “I’ll stop at the hospital too, if that’s okay.”

  “Sure. Gram and Gramps would want you there.”

  But you don’t? Mandy’s heart asked the question she didn’t dare voice.

  Jason took a couple more steps back toward the door. “Want to ride to the hospital with us?”

  “I’d better not. I may need to get back to the store before you’re ready to return home.”

  “Then I’ll see you at the hospital. Night.”

  “Good night.” She spoke to his back as he hurried across the room. A moment later the bells above the door tinkled merrily as he left.

  Mandy took a deep, shaky breath and lowered herself into the wing chair. She drew her legs up, wrapped her arms around her knees, closed her eyes, and allowed herself to relive the minutes holding Jason.

  She’d spent years trying to forget how she’d felt in his arms, trying to forget how it felt to hold him.

  “I haven’t forgotten, Jason,” she whispered, pain tightening her chest. “I haven’t forgotten anything. And I’ve never stopped loving you, not for a moment.”

  ❧

  Jason slouched down, rested the back of his head against the top of the blue sofa, and let his gaze slowly scan the ivory-white waiting room walls. A picture of roses hung on each wall, adding color and impersonal cheer. A basket of pink-and-blue silk flowers—he didn’t know what kind—rested amid stacks of magazines on the oval, oak coffee table in front of him. A pity, he thought, that the flowers aren’t real. If they were, their fragrance might mask the hospital smells.

  It had already been a long morning, and Gramps was still in surgery. Family of other patients had drifted in and out of the waiting room. Right now, Jason and Gram were alone. No, not alone. God is here.

  The thought brought a bit of refreshment to Jason’s spirit, though it didn’t quiet all his fears. He silently repeated the petitions he’d made a number of times already: Please, God, bring Gramps through this. Guide the surgical team. Give Gram and me strength.

  Jason wondered why Mandy hadn’t shown up yet. It wasn’t like her not to keep her word. Besides, she loved Gram and Gramps as much as her own kin.

  The intensity with which he wanted her there surprised him. Beneath her vivacious energy lay a serenity and confidence in God’s love which he longed for now.

  Even so, embarrassment squirmed through his chest at the remembrance of the previous night. As an “enlightened male” he knew intellectually that it was okay for a man to cry, regardless of the messages a boy received growing up. But it didn’t feel right. It was downright scary, his emotions getting away from him that way. Not that Mandy would think a man’s tears a weakness.

  The compassion he’d felt in her arms swept over him. He hadn’t hung onto anyone during life’s storms for a long time.

  His glance slid to Gram, who sat beside him wearing a rose jogging suit. Was she wondering whether she and Gramps would ever hold each other again?

  Rays of sunlight slipped through the window blinds behind them and laid pale yellow light on her gray hair. An open devotional book rested on top of the black leather-bound Bible in her lap. With the fingers of one hand, she played with the simple gold cross on the chain about her neck. Gramps had given her the cross on her sixtieth birthday, Jason remembered. She always wore it.

  She looked small, sad, scared, and incredibly vulnerable—everything he wasn’t accustomed to seeing in her spirit. Love and a desire to protect her rushed through him. He reached out, laid his arm across her shoulders, and gave her a squeeze.

  She looked up, and his heart contracted at the fear he saw in her eyes.

  “I keep asking God to bring Seth through this,” she admitted. “I want to believe God will do just that. But I can’t forget that we all die. That’s the plan. Makes it hard to know what God’s will is now.”

  He squeezed her shoulder again. “I have those same thoughts every time I pray.”

  She gave a little sigh and shifted until she leaned against him.

  A movement caught Jason’s attention. His spirits lifted at the sight of Mandy entering the waiting area at a quick pace. He shoved away the temptation to retreat behind a wall of embarrassment at his actions the night before and smiled a welcome.

  Gram reached both hands toward Mandy. “You made it. I knew you would.”

  Jason felt the chill of the cold air Mandy brought with her from the outdoors as she grasped Gram’s hands and kissed her cheek. “Sorry I couldn’t get here sooner. The girl scheduled to work this morning called in sick. Ellen promised to drive for a class trip today, so she couldn’t help out.”

  Gram continued to cling to Mandy’s gloved hands. “You didn’t close the store, did you?”

  “No. A wife of one of your farm workers agreed to help out.”

  “That’s good.” Gram released Mandy’s hands.

  Mandy removed her gloves and gray winter jacket. Jason noticed that the cold wind had left her cheeks almost as bright as her red sweater.

  She sat down near Gram on the edge of a blue club chair which stood at a right angle to the sofa. “Is Grandpa Seth still in surgery?”

  Jason and Gram both nodded.

  “Has anyone told you how it’s going?” Mandy looked from Gram to Jason.

  Jason shook his head. “No. We’re hoping that’s a good sign.”

  Mandy glanced at the round, oak-rimmed clock that hung above the small desk in one corner of the room. “Is it normal for the surgery to last this long?”

  “According to Dr. Monroe, it is,” he assured her. “It’s a pretty complicated surgery. They strip arteries from his legs to replace the clogged arteries around his heart. Have to admit, though, I didn’t know time could move this slow.”

  Gram leaned forwar
d. “Which of the girls is on the class trip?”

  Glad to think about anything other than the operation, Jason thought. Can’t blame her.

  “Bonnie. Her class is visiting a log cabin where women still spin wool and weave the old-fashioned way.”

  Gram’s eyes brightened with interest. “The children will like that. My grandma had a loom. Grandpa built it for her when they were newlyweds. My, she made that shuttle fly. She wove beautiful rugs. Remind me to show you next time you’re up to the house.”

  “I will.” Mandy looked from Gram to Jason and back again. “Did Beth’s teacher, Miss Lewis, get in touch with either of you? She wants the class to visit a Christmas tree farm.”

  “I thought the school didn’t allow Christmas celebrations anymore,” Gram said, “what with students from religions other than Christianity and that separation of church and school law.”

  “You’re right, but the school does allow studies of different traditions. Beth’s class is studying Christmas, Hanukkah, and Kwanza. Since Christmas trees are one of our state’s largest businesses, no one should object to the class visiting a farm. Miss Lewis would like it to be yours, but Beth told her about Grandpa Seth’s surgery, and Miss Lewis didn’t want to impose on you.”

  “We’ll be glad to have the class visit,” Jason assured Mandy. “Right, Gram?”

  Gram nodded. “We can give them a hayride. And hot apple cider and cookies afterward.”

  “I’ll arrange the ride and a tour if you ladies take care of the eats,” Jason agreed. It meant additional work at an already busy time, but it would be good public relations and give Gram something to look forward to. Besides, he wanted to do it. “It will be fun.”

  Mandy smiled at him. “I’ll tell Miss Lewis to call you.”

  The conversation dried up. After a couple minutes, Mandy leaned forward and patted Gram’s hand. “Are you doing all right?”

  Gram gave her a thin smile. “As all right as a body can be at a time like this, I reckon. I’m trying to keep the faith, as they say, but. . .but it’s his heart, you know?” Her voice faltered on the last words. “I mean, hearts are. . .vital.”