My Stubborn Heart

by Becky Wade

  “How about the nice-looking blond one we met in Dallas a few years ago?”

  Her second major boyfriend, Trevor, had seemed great on the surface. After being together two years, right at the point when she’d started dreaming of a diamond ring and a white dress, she’d found out that he’d been cheating on her. Multiple times. Multiple people. “Unfaithful,” Kate replied.

  “So you broke up with both of them?” Velma frowned.

  “Rick broke up with me and I broke up with Trevor.” A simple explanation that didn’t come close to the iceberg-sized contents of what lay beneath. She’d thought herself in love with each of them. The ending of both romances had completely and thoroughly broken her heart.

  Velma grunted. “Well, Rick and Trevor are bad names anyway. You’re never going to find a husband dating men with names like that. Look for a man with a good name.” Her heavily penciled eyebrows lowered. “And look fast, because if you ever want to have children you need to find someone soon.”

  Ouch. Kate wished she could shrug off Velma’s words. She tried. But despite her efforts, the words stung and stung hard. “I’ll try to get a move on,” she said dryly.

  Gran breezed in with a plate full of oatmeal chocolate chunk cookies. “Hats, everyone!” She lifted the top of a nearby window seat. From the storage compartment beneath, she pulled out four of the many hats they’d uncovered in an upstairs bedroom yesterday.

  No one expressed surprise. Gran frequently served high tea. And she almost always insisted on wearing big, gaudy hats.

  After some debate about who looked best in which, they started in on the tea. “It’s Victorian Garden,” Gran pronounced as she poured, “and it tastes like a flower.”

  Kate watched Peg take a delicate sip of tea, then set her cup back on its saucer with an inaudible click. Peg was, and always had been, a beauty. Her makeup was impeccable, her pale gray bob beautifully cut and styled. Today she looked almost casual in leather loafers, gray slacks, a white collared shirt, and a red knit sweater tied around her shoulders. The gold charm hanging from her necklace exactly matched the gold charms on her earrings.

  “You look thoughtful, Peg,” Gran commented.

  “Peg’s always thoughtful,” Velma said.

  Peg laid her napkin gracefully in her lap, taking her time. “When you were in the kitchen, Beverly, Velma was telling Kate to hurry up and get married. I’ve been sitting here ever since trying to think of one good reason why Kate would want to.”

  “What?” Velma squawked.

  “Girls these days don’t need to get married, Velma,” Peg said steadily. “They have their own careers and make their own money. They can adopt a baby from China if they want a child. Why do they need a husband?”

  “Exactly!” Kate said gamely, though she didn’t feel the least bit excited about a life of singlehood and a Chinese baby.

  “Why would they want a husband?” Velma repeated incredulously. “Why, Peggy Elizabeth—”

  “Men are messy,” Peg serenely interrupted. “And bossy. And sometimes they refuse to go on a cruise to Alaska and instead insist on taking a cruise to the Caribbean for the sixteenth time.”

  “Ah,” Velma said. “So that’s the bee in your bonnet.”

  “Well . . . yes. I simply can’t understand what William has against Alaska.” Peg gently squeezed Kate’s forearm and smiled. “You have to understand, Kate, my husband is still around, so I’m allowed to complain about him.”

  Velma let out a hoot of laughter.

  “They become saints, of course, once they’re gone,” Peg said. “But let me tell you, the reality of a husband is at times very trying.”

  “Of course husbands are trying! But Kate should still marry.” Velma peered at Kate through her big glasses, the kind with earpieces that started at the outside bottom of the lenses and swirled back over the ears. “Herb was a nincompoop. I divorced him after fifteen years of his nonsense, and I’ve been a single gal ever since. Even so, I’m glad I married the big dope because he gave me four sons.” Her attention swung to Gran. “You adored Arthur.”

  “Yes, I did,” Gran agreed.

  It had been obvious to everyone who’d known them that Kate’s gran and grandad had indeed adored each other. They’d been happily married for more than fifty years. At the end of his life, her grandad had fought valiantly against leukemia before God took him home a year and a half ago.

  Losing him had made Kate more determined than ever to bring Gran here before it was too late, to embark on something new and promising together, and to fulfill Gran’s lifelong dream of restoring her beloved Chapel Bluff.

  “And Peg,” Velma continued, “might complain about William, but that man has loved her since the day they met our junior year at Westfield High. He spoils her rotten and just about lives to make her happy. If she wants to go on a cruise to Alaska, that’s exactly where he’ll end up taking her.”

  Peg glanced at Kate. “I’m still tired of picking up his dirty socks.”

  Just then footsteps sounded and they all looked up as Matt filled the dining room doorway.

  Goose bumps slid down the back of Kate’s neck and all the way along her arms. She’d spent time chatting with him again this morning. It had gone about as poorly as their conversation yesterday. She’d tried to be warm and charming, but she’d felt the whole time like she was annoying him royally.

  He didn’t so much as raise an eyebrow at the sight of the four of them in their enormous hats.

  “Matt!” Gran exclaimed. “Please join us. It’ll only take me a second to get you a cup.”

  “No, thank you, though. I came to tell you that I’m finished for the day, Mrs. Donovan.”

  “Beverly, please.”

  “Beverly. I’ll be back in the morning.”

  “I’m going to fry chicken tonight. Would you like to join us for dinner?”

  “Thanks for the offer. I can’t tonight.” He nodded to them, turned, and left.

  The four ladies listened until the front door closed and his truck engine turned over. Velma leaned forward. “Now, I have told you about Matt Jarreau, haven’t I?”

  Kate shook her head.

  “Tell us what?” Gran asked.

  “I didn’t tell you about his history, Beverly? That time on the phone when I recommended him to you?”

  “No, I don’t believe so,” Gran answered.

  “You’ve heard of him, though? Our local celebrity?”

  Celebrity? Unease trickled through Kate. “No,” she said slowly. “All we know is that he grew up down the hill from here and that he knew Great-Grandma and Grandpa.”

  “Good gracious! They don’t know who he is, Peg.”

  “I’m as surprised as you are.”

  “Matt Jarreau,” Velma said, looking at them gravely, as if imparting a momentous secret, “is famous. Certainly the most famous person ever to come out of Redbud, Pennsylvania.”

  “Famous for what?” Kate asked. Drywall?

  “Hockey. He was a great hockey player for the New York Barons in the . . . what’s the name of that professional league?” she asked Peg.

  “The NHL.”

  “Right, the NHL. When he was with the Barons, they won two of those . . .” She shook her fingers impatiently. “The big trophy?”

  “The Stanley Cup,” Peg supplied.

  “And he was their leading score person the times they won it. Their star.” Velma leaned back, looking pleased with herself, and took a triumphant sip of tea.

  Kate just stared at her, frozen with surprise. Their contractor was a hockey legend?

  “What happened?” Gran asked. “Why isn’t he playing anymore?”

  “Well, that’s the sad part,” Peg said. “About five years ago he married a former Miss America. Beautiful girl named Beth Andrews.”

  “It was about ten years ago that she won Miss America,” Velma added. “Any chance you remember the tall, gorgeous blonde who did the ballet act?”

  Kate and Gran shook th
eir heads.

  “Had hair down to here?” Velma indicated the middle of her back. “Lovely, lovely girl. And sweet, too.”

  “Wait, wait, wait,” Kate said. “You’re telling me that he married an actual Miss America?”

  Peg nodded. “That’s right.”

  “Of course, she’d completed her reign by the time they met and married,” Velma said. “Can’t remember what her cause was now. Blind people, maybe? Anyway, she and Matt had a big society wedding down where she was from. Georgia, wasn’t it?”

  “Yes. There were pictures of it in People magazine,” Peg said.

  “At the time it was a big to-do. Ritzy, you know.” Velma popped a section of cookie into her mouth, chewed. “Anyway, they were only married a couple of years. And the last six months or so of that Beth was very sick.”

  “Sick with what?” Gran asked worriedly.

  “With brain cancer,” Velma answered. “Poor thing. It was awful. Here’s this beautiful young girl with so much to live for, and she’s diagnosed with brain cancer. She was only twenty-seven years old when she died.”

  “I’m so sorry to hear that,” Gran murmured.

  Kate’s heart sank for Matt. She’d wanted to uncover his secrets, to know what had caused the tragedy she’d seen in his eyes. But now that she did know, she was sorry she knew, and terribly, terribly sorry about what he’d been through. She couldn’t believe she’d had the gall yesterday to tease him for not smiling, for being so serious.

  “When she died, Matt quit playing hockey,” Velma said. “Right there at the top of his career. Nobody knows why. Most people thought he’d want to keep playing even harder afterward, you know, to take his mind off things. But nope. He just left it. Then he came back to Redbud, I think, because he knew nobody here would bother him.”

  “He’s not seen much around town,” Peg said. “He concentrates on his work.”

  “But he must not need to work.” Kate was struggling to understand. “He must have a fortune.”

  “Oh, indeed,” Peg answered. “A fortune.”

  Velma made a tsking sound. “For all the happiness it’s brought him. I wouldn’t want to speculate. . . . Oh, who am I kidding? I’ll speculate. I think he needs something to do with himself. He likes fixing up old houses, so he works.”

  Silence descended over the ladies like spring rain. They were all somber faced, considering Matt and his young and lovely dead wife.

  Kate looked at her tea and the remains of her cookie.

  She no longer felt like eating.

  Ordinarily, Antiques Roadshow and an open bag of peppermint taffy cured all Kate’s ills. But not tonight.

  She lay sprawled on her bed wearing a tank and drawstring pajama bottoms, watching the only TV in the house. It had been loaned to her by Peg, and thanks to today’s visit from the cable company, both it and the Internet connection on her laptop were up and running.

  She’d seen this Roadshow episode before. They were in Tucson oohing and ahhing over Native American finds.

  She tapped the brass footboard with her big toe and popped another taffy into her mouth, trying hard to find enjoyment in it. Her romantic’s soul was still reeling with sadness for Matt and his wife. Imagining the realities of what losing his wife must have been like for him made her shiver with sorrow.

  The longer she contemplated his grief, the more it mingled into her own personal grief. If he, of all people, wasn’t enjoying happily-ever-after with someone, then what earthly chance did she have?

  Over the years, she’d developed a pretty thick skin. People’s comments about her singlehood ordinarily rolled right off her back. But Velma’s words from earlier today hadn’t.

  “Look fast, because if you ever want to have children you need to find someone soon.”

  Velma had merely stated the obvious fact that Kate, and everyone else in the world, already knew. At thirty-one she wasn’t old, not by a long shot. But she, her ovaries, and her eggs were all older than they used to be.

  She let her head sink into the jumbled quilts and lay staring blindly at the ceiling. It was un-P.C., but she wanted—had always wanted—to be married and to have children. Maybe because her grandparents on both sides and her parents had such great marriages. To this day her mom and dad did everything together—grocery shopping, tennis, movies, trips. They still held hands, they still whispered secrets. They were partners and best friends. They were the fairy tale.

  There had been lots of times when Kate, as a knobby-kneed kid and then as an awkward teenager, had watched them together and felt left out of their little circle of two. All those times she’d thought, Someday. I want that for me someday.

  As a girl she’d forced her younger sister to play Ken and Barbie with her, inventing elaborate stories of their devotion to each other, their happy house, their numerous children. As a young teen, she’d read dozens of those skinny romance novels in the juvenile fiction section. As an older teen she’d made trips to the video store to rent and re-rent movie love stories.

  Fall in love. Marry. Be blissful. Have babies. That had always been her plan. The fact that she was thirty-one and single left her feeling in weak moments like this one as if she’d somehow missed the train going where she’d wanted to go in life.

  Part of the problem? She had the most disastrous penchant for liking the wrong guys. Why couldn’t she just fall head over heels for someone from the singles group at church? What was wrong with her that she couldn’t go for someone open and wholesome—someone who was attending seminary or who carried their Bible to church in the little leather case with the handles? Why?! Was she self-destructive and didn’t know it? Horribly shallow?

  She’d always been the responsible eldest child. Outgoing, yes. But never one to swerve from the Road of Right Priorities. No booze, no drugs, no promiscuity.

  Yet in this one area of her life, the arena of men, she didn’t understand herself. In the two years since she and Trevor had broken up, she couldn’t figure out why her heart remained unswayed by guys who were obviously the right, smart, practical choice. She desperately wanted to fall in love with a good guy. But try as she might, her stubborn heart resisted every candidate. And as long as this trend continued, she knew very well that she was going to stay single.

  Loneliness, her old enemy and companion, slithered around her middle and squeezed.

  Kate sat up, frustrated with herself. She’d learned today that Matt had lost his wife, and she was still managing to throw herself a pity party. She shoved her feet into her pink UGG slippers and made her way downstairs. She let herself out the back door and walked across the grass in the moonlight, taking deep breaths of the woodsmoke-scented night air. In the distance, the chapel gleamed. Her ancestor, the one who’d built Chapel Bluff, had taken care to put that little building with the cross on top right at the heart of their property. It reminded her that this family had been founded on what was important. Every generation had carefully instilled their faith in the next, right on down to her. She’d been raised in the church, and her relationship with God was long-standing, close, and easy. He should be enough for her. She knew He was enough. She was only sorry and guilty that at times like this He didn’t feel like enough.

  She crossed her arms, slowly drinking in her surroundings. The stone bulk of the house. The building doggedly known as the “barn,” though it contained parking spaces for several cars but not a single animal. The black hills in the distance. The starry sky. And again, the white-washed chapel in the center of it all.

  She began to walk, enjoying the crunch of the driveway and then grass under her slippers. She could feel God in the night.

  Jesus’ words in Matthew popped into her mind. If you have faith as small as a mustard seed, nothing will be impossible for you.

  It was humbling to have faith tinier than a mustard seed. Kate stopped walking, sighed, and let her eyes close.

  I have a plan for you, God seemed to say.

  It would be nice, Lord, if it could include
a man.

  Silence answered.

  The hardest and the truest thing was the supremacy of God’s will, which meant that no matter how much she prayed for a husband and a family, she wasn’t guaranteed that she’d ever receive what she asked for.

  She began to stride forward again, praying, feeling the cool air on her skin, in her lungs. Her mind drifted to Matt.

  Okay, so there was a magnificent-looking hockey legend currently renovating her grandmother’s house. Okay. She could handle it. She could absolutely resist the temptation he presented.

  She was a social worker and it was in her DNA to reach out to people who were hurting and do her best to make things better. Now that she knew what he’d been through, she was even more firmly set on befriending him.

  It wouldn’t be easy.

  But she could try.

  If she stuck with it, maybe she could eventually force him to smile. Bring a little bit of fun into his workweek. Nothing that would begin to ease his loss, of course. But something.

  She took a deep breath.

  She could try.

  She found him the next morning at work in one of the second-story guest bedrooms. He’d ripped away a section of the wall, revealing the wooden framework beneath. Brittle plaster lay around his feet like rubble.

  “Wow,” Kate said, taking in the mess.

  Matt stopped what he was doing and glanced at her. He was wearing khaki cargo pants and a long-sleeved cotton T-shirt that said Abercrombie and Fitch across the chest. His baseball hat rode low over his eyes.

  “I brought you a bottled water,” she said. “Thirsty?”

  He hesitated. “Sure.”

  She picked her way through the clutter and handed it to him.

  “Thanks.”

  “What’re you working on?” she asked.

  “There was a leak.” He pointed to a crack in the metal plumbing line.

  “Looks like it rotted all the wood around it.”

  “Yeah.”

  “And your plan is . . . ?”

  “I’ve got to replace this section of plumbing. Frame in new wood. Put up drywall.”