For Her Son's Love

by Kathryn Springer

  “Tell Olivia you’ll call her back after we’ve discussed it.”

  Daniel’s face fell. The word discussed usually meant no. “But, Mom—”

  “We’ll talk about it later.” When Andrew wasn’t there.

  “Okay.” Daniel’s gloomy voice reminded her of the donkey in the Winnie the Pooh cartoons they watched together. “Olivia? I probably can’t go with you. My mom needs me to help her paint the kitchen tomorrow. Bye.”

  Guilt shot through Miranda as he handed the phone back to her. Lorraine and Tom had taken Daniel to church with them the first week they’d brought him home. Lorraine had insisted on keeping him with her through the entire service, too, never taking advantage of the well-staffed nursery. She’d told Miranda it was never too early to introduce a boy to the God who’d made him.

  The only part of Lorraine’s parenting philosophy Miranda had refused to embrace.

  “Daniel, I—”

  “It’s okay. I forgot you needed my help.” Daniel smiled at her and picked up his paintbrush again.

  Another arrow of guilt pierced her. She felt Andrew’s gaze but averted her eyes. She already felt exposed. He’d seen the suitcases. Heard Daniel talk about a scary place. And now he was up close and personal with her doubts and suspicions. She was surprised he didn’t run screaming from the room.

  “Leah is going to be my new babysitter,” Daniel told Andrew. “Olivia has a playhouse and a sandbox with lots of trucks. The trucks are Joseph’s but he’s too little to play with them so he won’t mind if I do.”

  Andrew glanced at her in surprise. “You asked Leah Cavanaugh to take care of Daniel?”

  Miranda shook her head. “She called and offered.” And now she had a hunch as to why.

  Silence weighted the room for a moment.

  “Leah is about as real as a person can get this side of heaven,” Andrew said softly, as if she’d spoken her suspicions out loud.

  Warm color tinted Miranda’s cheeks. Andrew’s quiet words reminded her that she’d always admired the young woman’s warmth and bubbly personality. Leah wasn’t the kind of person who had hidden motives or agendas.

  Maybe suspicion was something else she needed to let go of. Like drapes that blocked out the sun. And suitcases buried in the back of the closet like time capsules.

  “I think I can handle the kitchen by myself for a few hours tomorrow,” she told Daniel. “Call Olivia back and find out what time they’re going to pick you up.”

  “Really?” Daniel gave her an exuberant hug. Unfortunately, he forgot he had a paintbrush in his hand.

  Miranda gasped.

  “You better not sit down.” Andrew barely suppressed a smile.

  “I’ll be right back.” Miranda headed to her room to change clothes, absorbing the sound of Andrew and Daniel’s laughter as it followed her out the door.

  She’d gotten so used to Daniel’s quiet play and the silence of her own company she’d forgotten how laughter could fill a room. Could make it come to life even more than a fresh coat of paint and new curtains.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Five minutes after Miranda sent Daniel off for church with the Cavanaughs the next morning, someone knocked on the door. Probably Mrs. Enderby, coming to check on her progress again.

  The landlady had ignored her arthritic hip and tottered up to the apartment to see Daniel’s bedroom just minutes after Andrew had left the day before. After one slice of pizza—and that was only because Daniel had challenged him to a race to see who could eat a piece the fastest—Andrew had glanced at his watch and told them he had an “appointment” and had to leave.

  Miranda had read between the lines. It was Saturday night. A date night for someone who actually had a social life.

  She’d said goodbye, trying to hide her disappointment.

  What was wrong with her? Every time she decided she wasn’t going to let Andrew Noble get close, he found a way to sneak under her defenses. Like showing up out of the blue and spending the afternoon painting Daniel’s bedroom.

  Mrs. Enderby—the Queen of Neutral Colors—had loved it. After inspecting Daniel’s bedroom walls, she’d told Miranda she’d stop by to see the kitchen. Miranda hadn’t expected it to be eight o’clock in the morning.

  “Just a min…” Miranda opened the door and her voice faded into a gurgle.

  Andrew stood on the landing, a white bakery box balanced in one hand and a carafe of fragrant coffee in the other. “I heard you could use a helper.”

  She saw the paintbrush sticking out of the pocket of his faded jeans and tried not to smile. “I thought you went to church.”

  “I’ll go to the evening service tonight. Are you going to let me in to help or am I going to have to sit outside the window and torture you with the aroma of these double-chocolate-chip muffins?”

  Miranda opened the door and let him into the apartment even as she recognized the truth.

  Somehow, Andrew Noble had gotten into her heart.

  “I don’t know about you…” Andrew paused and rubbed the back of his neck, massaging away the dull ache that had taken up residence there. Payback for being a gentleman. He’d volunteered to paint the ceiling while Miranda had crouched on the floor, meticulously covering the scuffed baseboards with a fresh coat of Raspberry Mocha.

  Once Miranda had gotten past her shock at seeing him standing outside her front door, they’d worked in companionable silence for more than an hour.

  “But I’m ready for a coffee break. And maybe another muffin.”

  Miranda smiled.

  “What?” He wanted to know the thoughts that lay behind every one of those rare smiles. They reminded him of watching the sun peek through the clouds after a storm.

  “You remind me of Daniel. I can’t fill him up these days. I think he’s grown two inches since school let out.”

  “I can’t use that as an excuse. If I grow anywhere, it isn’t going to be taller. It’s going to be wider.” Andrew patted his flat stomach.

  “I don’t think you have to worry…” Miranda’s cheeks flooded with color and she looked away, embarrassed.

  Andrew’s eyebrow lifted. He thought blushing had gone out with cassette tapes. The women in the circles he traveled in wore their sophistication and experience like designer perfume.

  Miranda’s shy stammer caught him off guard. He wouldn’t have expected it from a woman who’d been married and had a child.

  “Why isn’t Daniel back yet? I thought church ended at eleven.” Miranda turned her back on him. Deliberately.

  Andrew grinned.

  “It is—”

  As if on cue, the telephone rang.

  “Hi, Leah.” Miranda traced a finger along a jagged scratch on the kitchen table. “Lunch? I…suppose. No, two o’clock is fine. I know Daniel would love to go with you. Bye.”

  Miranda hung up the phone, looking as if she’d lost her best friend. Or realized her baby was growing up.

  “Let me guess. You just got stood up by your favorite guy.”

  “It looks that way.”

  Could he be honest? At the risk of having the doors to Miranda’s heart slam shut again?

  Speak the truth in love.

  Another bit of wisdom his mother would be proud to know he remembered.

  “The Cavanaughs are good people, Miranda. They’ll take care of Daniel.”

  “I know.” Miranda forced a laugh. “But every time he’s out of my sight…I just need to know he’s safe. I sound silly.”

  “You sound like a mom,” Andrew contradicted. “My mother took comfort in knowing that she couldn’t always be with me but she knew God was. She’d say, ‘I gave you to the Lord to hold, Andrew, and He hasn’t dropped one of His children yet. I doubt you’ll be the first.’”

  Miranda forced a smile. “That sounds nice.”

  Andrew’s frustration spiked. He could see in her eyes that she wanted to believe it. What held her back?

  Patience, Andrew.

  The same nudge that
had brought him to Miranda’s door the day before now cautioned him to back off. He listened. The changes he’d witnessed in Miranda’s life over the past few weeks gave him hope. God was at work and the last thing Andrew wanted to do was get in the way.

  “I’ll take Daniel’s place as your lunch date.”

  Miranda’s eyes widened with panic. “No! I mean, I don’t think you’d like what we were going to have.”

  “You think I’m a picky eater?”

  “No, it’s just that…” She rolled her eyes and gave a little huff. “When was the last time you ate a grilled-cheese sandwich?”

  “I think I was ten.”

  “Exactly.”

  “Grilled-cheese sandwiches happened to be my favorite.”

  He waited, counting on Miranda’s Southern gentility to override her reserve.

  “It’s processed American. The rubbery squares that come wrapped in plastic.”

  “Also my favorite.” He managed to keep a straight face.

  “You keep painting. I’ll make the sandwiches.”

  Good manners won. He resisted the urge to whoop like Daniel had when he’d slid into home plate at the Fourth of July picnic. “Yes, ma’am.” He drawled the words and saw a smile tug at her lips.

  Thank you, Lord. You lead, I’ll follow. Things always work out best that way.

  Miranda dug into the fridge and pulled out the package of cheese. It almost slipped from her trembling hands.

  Andrew Noble in her kitchen. On a ladder. Painting her ceiling.

  Life couldn’t get more surreal. Any moment, a camera crew would burst into her humble apartment and she’d find out she was the unwitting star of some crazy new television show.

  The flipside of that nightmare was being alone with him. Sitting across from each other eating grilled-cheese sandwiches.

  The camera crew looked better and better.

  She enjoyed Andrew’s company way too much for her peace of mind. His sense of humor coaxed laughter from a place inside her that she thought life had completely emptied. He kept his distance, never crowding her. Even when he turned on that legendary Noble charm, she sensed a depth and sincerity in him that most people seemed to overlook.

  One word came to mind when she thought of Andrew.

  Dangerous.

  Fumbling with the loaf of bread, she concentrated on making the most perfect grilled-cheese sandwiches ever to grace the skillet on Mrs. Enderby’s temperamental old stove.

  “You look like you’ve got this down to a science.” Andrew jumped down from the ladder and edged closer to watch.

  Miranda nodded. Hopefully her ability to speak would return. When the tangy scent of his cologne wasn’t teasing her senses.

  Rattled by his closeness, Miranda deposited the sandwiches on the griddle and stepped away. Right onto the wooden stick she’d used to stir the paint. It attached itself to the bottom of her shoe like a wad of chewing gum.

  Miranda teetered as she lifted her foot to pull it off and grabbed on to the only solid thing in the vicinity.

  Andrew’s shoulder.

  She yanked the stick away and dropped it on the newspaper. Raspberry Mocha paint dripped from the sole of her shoe. Still holding on to Andrew for balance, she peeled off her tennis shoe, too.

  The smell of burning grilled-cheese sandwiches filled the air.

  Miranda groaned.

  “They’re burning…” Her voice died in her throat.

  Andrew’s arms had come around her to steady her and when she tried to wiggle away to rescue their lunch, he didn’t let her go. Green and gold fire danced in his eyes, reminding her of pictures she’d seen of the northern lights.

  “Miranda?” The question in his husky voice made her heart skip a beat. The pad of his thumb traced her jaw and came to rest on the pulse beating wildly in her throat.

  He wanted to kiss her. But he wouldn’t without her permission. In that moment, Miranda knew everything she’d heard and read about Andrew Noble was wrong. No matter what evidence existed to the contrary, he wasn’t the kind of man who carelessly played with women’s hearts and tossed them aside.

  Yes.

  She didn’t say the word aloud but he read it in her eyes. A half a step brought them closer. He gathered her against him and lowered his head, his lips gentle and searching. He didn’t demand a response; he coaxed one from her.

  With one kiss, Andrew wiped away the memory of Hal’s rough embraces.

  Head over heels.

  For the first time, Andrew knew what it meant.

  The gentle press of Miranda’s hands against his back and her tentative response turned him inside out. Totally shaken, he released her.

  “I’m sorry, Miranda.” Still feeling the aftershock of that kiss, he took a step back and shoved his hands into his pockets. The bewildered look in her eyes made him want to tug her right back into his arms. “I didn’t mean for that to happen.”

  “Neither did I.” Miranda’s fingers touched her lips.

  He’d ruined it. Now she’d look for strings attached to his offer of friendship. Miranda would assume she’d just become another number in Andrew Noble’s little black book….

  “But I don’t think I’m sorry.” She blushed right after she said the words, as if she hadn’t meant to speak them out loud.

  Andrew stared at her.

  The hiss of the skillet, a small cloud of black smoke and the unexpected shriek of the smoke detector brought both of them back to reality.

  Miranda grabbed a pot holder and lunged toward the oven but Andrew plucked it out of her hand.

  “No way. This is my knight-in-shining-armor moment when I rescue the fair maiden from terror and certain death….”

  Miranda had the skillet in the sink and the window open by the time he finished his monologue.

  “Let’s try that again.” Miranda sighed, dumping the soggy remains of their lunch into the garbage.

  “Are you talking about the sandwiches?” Andrew grinned.

  Miranda blushed. Again.

  Andrew resisted the urge to kiss her. Again.

  “Let me run out and get something at the deli.” He needed to put some distance between them so he could think straight. And pray. And ask God to forgive him for his stupidity. He’d jeopardized the fragile trust Miranda had offered by inviting him into her home. And her life.

  “You don’t have to—”

  Yes, he did.

  “You wouldn’t let me rescue you from the evil skillet. At least let me buy you lunch.” Andrew escaped before Miranda could finish her halfhearted protest.

  When the door closed, Miranda sagged against the counter and closed her eyes. She didn’t know how to begin to sort through the tangle of emotions Andrew’s kiss had created.

  Miranda knew Hal had somehow damaged her soul the day he’d pushed her against the wall. She’d trusted him and he’d betrayed her. His aggressive show of strength had left bruises not only on the outside but on the inside, too.

  She’d kept men at a wary distance ever since then. At the diner, if one of them somehow managed to edge into her personal space, she felt smothered. Trapped. At times Miranda wondered if she could ever trust a man to get close to her again without feeling that overwhelming sense of panic.

  She hadn’t felt that way with Andrew.

  Maybe because he’d asked instead of demanded. Given more than he’d taken.

  I don’t think I’m sorry.

  Miranda’s cheeks heated as she remembered the reckless words that had spilled out. Instead of using her honesty to his advantage, his tender smile and gentle humor had given her back her dignity.

  Daniel was right.

  Andrew was one of the good guys.

  The Cavanaughs’ dark green SUV pulled alongside the curb as Andrew parked his own car in Miranda’s narrow driveway.

  Daniel and Olivia tumbled out of the backseat and Daniel made a beeline for him.

  “Did you come to see me?” Daniel raised his arms, eager to reclaim h
is perch on Andrew’s shoulders.

  “I came to help your mom paint the kitchen.” Andrew looped the grocery bag around his wrist and hoisted Daniel up. Olivia giggled as she watched them.

  Andrew walked over to the window to say hello to Ben and Leah and saw Joseph sleeping peacefully in his car seat.

  “Can you come up and say hello? I couldn’t decide between raspberry cordial and death by chocolate cheesecake. So I bought them both.”

  Leah smiled but the serious set of Ben’s jaw didn’t ease.

  Andrew put Daniel down and handed him the bag. “Will you and Olivia run this upstairs for me, champ? And tell your mom I’ll be right there.”

  “Okay.” Daniel tugged on Olivia’s hand. “You can see my room.”

  Andrew waited until they disappeared. He hadn’t spoken to Rachel in a few days but the Lord continually brought the Cavanaugh family to mind during Andrew’s prayer time. He’d been a believer long enough to know that was never a coincidence. “Is everything all right?”

  “I talked to Reverend Fraser after church this morning. I’ve decided to call the Watsons when we get home.” Ben laughed softly. “To tell you the truth, I haven’t been this nervous since I asked Leah to marry me.”

  “And I couldn’t resist you.” Leah gave her husband’s shoulder an affectionate squeeze. “I doubt the Watsons will be able to, either.”

  “Let me know how it goes,” Andrew said. “I’ll be praying for you.”

  “We will,” Leah promised.

  Andrew took a few steps and paused. “Thanks for taking Daniel to church and out to lunch.”

  “Don’t thank us. Daniel is a real sweetie. Easy to love.”

  Andrew glanced up and saw Miranda framed in the window.

  So is his mother.

  He didn’t say the words out loud but when he caught a glimpse of Leah’s knowing smile, he knew he might as well have.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Ross stirred the stacks of papers on his desk and wondered why God had handpicked him to be the bearer of bad news.

  “It’s a good thing killing the messenger isn’t a viable option, anymore, Lord,” Ross muttered, staring at the name penciled in the square on his calendar.