Looking for a Hero

by Debbie Macomber

  She scanned the yard, looking for Nash, wanting him to witness the happy exchange between her parents, but he was busy studying the fishing flies her father had left out for his inspection.

  Her father’s shout alerted Savannah that dinner was ready. Reluctantly she joined Nash and her parents at the round picnic table. She wasn’t given any choice but to share the crescent-shaped bench with him.

  He was close enough that she could feel the heat radiating off his body. Close enough that she yearned to be closer yet. That was what surprised her, but more profoundly it terrified her. From the first moment she’d met him, Savannah suspected there was something different about him, about her reactions to him. In the beginning she’d attributed it to their disagreement, his heated argument against marriage, the challenge he represented, the promise of satisfaction if she could change his mind.

  Dinner was delicious and Nash went out of his way to compliment Joyce until her mother blushed with pleasure.

  “So,” her father said, glancing purposefully toward Savannah and Nash, “what are your plans?”

  “For what?” Nash asked.

  Savannah already knew the question almost as well as she knew the answer. Her father was asking about her future with Nash, and she had none.

  “Why don’t you tell Nash how you and Mom met,” Savannah asked, interrupting her father before he could respond to Nash’s question.

  “Oh, Savannah,” her mother protested, “that was years and years ago.” She glanced at her husband of thirty-seven years and her clear eyes lit up with a love so strong, it couldn’t be disguised. “But it was terribly romantic.”

  “You want to hear this?” Marcus’s question was directed to Nash.

  “By all means.”

  In that moment, Savannah could have kissed Nash, she was so grateful. “I was in the service,” her father explained. “An Airborne Ranger. A few days before I met Joyce, I received my orders and learned I was about to be stationed in Germany.”

  “He’d come up from California and was at Fort Lewis,” her mother added.

  “There’s not much to tell. Two weeks before I was scheduled to leave, I met Joyce at a dance.”

  “Daddy, you left out the best part,” Savannah complained. “It wasn’t like the band was playing a number you enjoyed and you needed a partner.”

  Her father chuckled. “You’re right about that. I’d gone to the dance with a couple of buddies. The evening hadn’t been going well.”

  “I remember you’d been stood up,” Savannah inserted, eager to get to the details of their romance.

  “No, dear,” her mother intervened, picking up the story, “that was me. So I was in no mood to be at any social function. The only reason I decided to go was to make sure Lenny Walton knew I hadn’t sat home mooning over him, but in reality I was at the dance mooning over him.”

  “I wasn’t particularly keen on being at this dance, either,” Marcus added. “I thought, mistakenly, that we were going to play pool at a local hall. I’ve never been much of a dancer, but my buddies were. They disappeared onto the dance floor almost immediately. I was bored and wandered around the hall for a while. I kept looking at my watch, eager to be on my way.”

  “As you can imagine, I wasn’t dancing much myself,” Joyce said.

  “Then it happened.” Savannah pressed her palms together and leaned forward. “This is my favorite part,” she told Nash.

  “I saw Joyce.” Her father’s voice dropped slightly. “When I first caught sight of her, my heart seized. I thought I might be having a reaction to the shots we’d been given earlier in the day. I swear I’d never seen a more beautiful woman. She wore this white dress and she looked like an angel. For a moment I was convinced she was.” He reached for her mother’s hand.

  “I saw Marcus at that precise second, as well,” Joyce whispered. “My friends were chatting and their voices faded until the only sound I heard was the pounding of my own heart. I don’t remember walking toward him and yet I must have, because when I looked up Marcus was standing there.”

  “The funny part is, I don’t remember moving, either.”

  Savannah propped her elbows on the table, her dinner forgotten. This story never failed to move her, although she’d heard it dozens of times over the years.

  “We danced,” her mother continued.

  “All night.”

  “We didn’t say a word. I think we must’ve been afraid the other would vanish if we spoke.”

  “While we were on the dance floor I kept pinching myself to be sure this was real, that Joyce was real. It was like we were both in a dream. These sorts of things only happen in the movies.

  “When the music stopped, I looked around and realized my buddies were gone. It didn’t matter. Nothing mattered but Joyce.”

  “Oh, Dad, I never get tired of hearing this story.”

  Joyce smiled as if she, too, was eager to relive the events of that night. “As we were walking out of the hall, I kept thinking I was never going to see Marcus again. I knew he was in the army—his haircut was a dead giveaway. I was well aware that my parents didn’t want me dating anyone in the military, and up until then I’d abided by their wishes.”

  “I was afraid I wasn’t going to see her again,” Savannah’s father went on. “But Joyce gave me her name and phone number and then ran off to catch up with her ride home.”

  “I didn’t sleep at all that night. I was convinced I’d imagined everything.”

  “I couldn’t sleep, either,” Marcus confessed. “Here I was with my shipping orders in my pocket—this was not the time to get involved with a woman.”

  “I’m glad you changed your mind,” Nash said, studying Savannah.

  “To tell you the truth, I don’t think I had much of a choice. It was as if our relationship was preordained. By the end of the following week, I knew Joyce was the woman I’d marry. I knew I’d love her all my life, and both have held true.”

  “Did you leave for Germany?”

  “Of course. I had no alternative. We wrote back and forth for two years and then were married three months after I was discharged. There was never another woman for me after I met Joyce.”

  “There was never another man for me,” her mother said quietly.

  Savannah tossed Nash a triumphant look and was disappointed to see that he wasn’t looking her way.

  “It’s a romantic story.” He was gracious enough to admit that much.

  “Apparently some of that romance rubbed off on Savannah.” Her father’s eyes were proud as he glanced at her. “This wedding business of hers is thriving.”

  “So it seems.” Some of the enthusiasm left Nash’s voice. He was apparently thinking of his sister, and Savannah’s role in her wedding plans.

  “Eat, before your dinner gets cold,” Joyce said, waving her fork in their direction.

  “How long did you say you’ve been married?” Nash asked, cutting off a piece of his steak.

  “Thirty-seven years,” her father told him.

  “And it’s been smooth sailing all that time?”

  Savannah wanted to pound her fist on the table and insist that this cross-examination was unnecessary.

  Marcus laughed. “Smooth sailing? Oh, hardly. Joyce and I’ve had our ups and downs over the years like most couples. If there’s anything special about our marriage, it’s been our commitment to each other.”

  Savannah cleared her throat, wanting to gloat. Once more Nash ignored her.

  “You’ve never once entertained the idea of divorce?” he asked.

  This question was unfair! She hadn’t had the opportunity to challenge his clients about their divorces, not that she would’ve wanted to. Every case had saddened and depressed her.

  “As soon as a couple introduces the subject of divorce, there isn’t the same willingness to concentrate on c
ommunication and problem-solving. People aren’t nearly as flexible,” Marcus said. “Because there’s always that out, that possibility.”

  Joyce nodded. “If there was any one key to the success of our marriage, it’s been that we’ve refused to consider divorce an option. That’s not to say I haven’t fantasized about it a time or two.”

  “We’re only human,” her father agreed with a nod. “I’ll admit I’ve entertained the notion a time or two myself—even if I didn’t do anything about it.”

  No! It wasn’t true. Savannah didn’t believe it. “But you were never serious,” she felt obliged to say.

  Marcus looked at her and offered her a sympathetic smile, as if he knew about their wager. “Your mother and I love each other, and neither of us could say we’re sorry we stuck it out through the hard times, but yes, sweetheart, there were a few occasions when I didn’t know if our marriage would survive.”

  Savannah dared not look at Nash. Her parents’ timing was incredible. If they were going to be brutally honest, why did it have to be now? In all the years Savannah was growing up she’d never once heard the word divorce. In her eyes their marriage was solid, always had been and always would be.

  “Of course, we never stopped talking,” her mother was saying. “No matter how angry we might be with each other.”

  Soon after, Joyce brought out dessert—a coconut cake—and coffee.

  “So, what do you think of our little girl?” Marcus asked, when he’d finished his dinner. He placed his hands on his stomach and studied Nash.

  “Dad, please! You’re embarrassing me.”

  “Why?”

  “My guess is Savannah would prefer we didn’t give her friend the third degree, dear,” Joyce said mildly.

  Savannah felt like kissing her mother’s cheek. She stood, eager to disentangle herself from this conversation. “I’ll help with the dishes, Mom,” she said as if suggesting a trip to the mall.

  * * *

  Nash’s mood had improved considerably after meeting Savannah’s parents. Obviously, things weren’t going the way she’d planned. Twice now, during dinner, it was all he could do not to laugh out loud. She’d expected them to paint a rosy picture of their idyllic lives together, one that would convince him of the error of his own views.

  The project had backfired in her face. Rarely had he seen anyone look more shocked than when her parents said that divorce was something they’d each contemplated at one point or another in their marriage.

  The men cleared the picnic table and the two women shooed them out of the kitchen. Nash was grateful, since he had several questions he wanted to ask Marcus about Savannah.

  They wandered back outside. Nash was helping Marcus gather up his fishing gear when Savannah’s father spoke.

  “I didn’t mean to pry earlier,” he said casually, carrying his fishing rod and box of flies into the garage. A motor home was parked alongside the building. Although it was an older model, it looked as good as new.

  “You don’t need to worry about offending me,” Nash assured him.

  “I wasn’t worried about you. Savannah gave me ‘the look’ while we were eating. I don’t know how much experience you have with women, young man, but take my advice. When you see ‘the look,’ shut up. No matter what you’re discussing, if you value your life, don’t say another word.”

  Nash chuckled. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

  “Savannah’s got the same expression as her mother. If you continue dating her, you’ll recognize it soon enough.” He paused. “You are going to continue seeing my daughter, aren’t you?”

  “You wouldn’t object?”

  “Heavens, no. If you don’t mind my asking, what do you think of my little girl?”

  Nash didn’t mince words. “She’s the most stubborn woman I’ve ever met.”

  Marcus nodded and leaned his prize fishing rod against the wall. “She gets that from her mother, too.” He turned around to face Nash, hands on his hips. “Does her limp bother you?” he asked point-blank.

  “Yes and no.” Nash wouldn’t insult her father with a half-truth. “It bothers me because she’s so conscious of it herself.”

  Marcus’s chest swelled as he exhaled. “That she is.”

  “How’d it happen?” Curiosity got the better of him, although he’d prefer to hear the explanation from Savannah.

  Her father walked to the back of the garage where a youngster’s mangled bicycle was stored. “It sounds simple to say she was hit by a car. This is what was left of her bike. I’ve kept it all these years as a reminder of how far she’s come.”

  “Oh, no...” Nash breathed when he viewed the mangled frame and guessed the full extent of the damage done to the child riding it. “How’d she ever survive?”

  “I’m not being facetious when I say sheer nerve. Anyone with less fortitude would have willed death. She was in the hospital for months, and that was only the beginning. The doctors initially told us she’d never walk again, and for the first year we believed it.

  “Even now she still has pain. Some days are worse than others. Climate seems to affect it somewhat. And her limp is more pronounced when she’s tired.” Marcus replaced the bicycle and turned back to Nash. “It isn’t every man who recognizes Savannah’s strength. You haven’t asked for my advice, so forgive me for offering it.”

  “Please.”

  “My daughter’s a special woman, but she’s prickly when it comes to men and relationships. Somehow, she’s got it in her head that no man will ever want her.”

  “I’m sure that’s not true.”

  “It is true, simply because Savannah believes it is,” Marcus corrected. “It’ll take a rare man to overpower her defenses. I’m not saying you’re that man. I’m not even saying you should try.”

  “You seemed to think otherwise earlier. Wasn’t it you who assumed I was going to marry your daughter?”

  “I said that to get a rise out of Savannah, and it worked.” Marcus rubbed his jaw, eyes twinkling with delight.

  “We’ve only just met.” Nash felt he had to present some explanation, although he wasn’t sure why.

  “I know.” He slapped Nash affectionately on the back and together they left the garage. When they returned to the house, the dinner dishes had been washed and put away.

  Savannah’s mother had filled several containers with leftovers and packed them in an insulated bag. She gave Savannah detailed instructions on how to warm up the leftover steak and vegetables. Attempting brain surgery sounded simpler. As it happened, Nash caught a glimpse of Marcus from the corner of his eye and nearly burst out laughing. The older man was slowly shaking his head.

  “I like the coyote, Mom,” Savannah said, as Nash took the food for her. She ran one hand over the stylized animal. “Are you and Dad going to Arizona this winter?”

  Nash felt static electricity hit the airwaves.

  “We haven’t decided, but I doubt we will this year,” Joyce answered.

  “Why not?” Savannah asked. This was obviously an old argument. “You love it there. More and more of your friends are becoming snowbirds. It doesn’t make sense for you to spend your winters here in the cold and damp when you can be with your friends, soaking up the sunshine.”

  “Sweetheart, we’ve got a long time to make that decision,” Marcus reminded her. “It’s barely summer.”

  She hugged them both goodbye, then slung her purse over her shoulder, obviously giving up on the argument with her parents.

  “What was that all about?” Nash asked once they were in his car.

  It was unusual to see Savannah look vulnerable, but she did now. He wasn’t any expert on women. His sister was evidence of that, and so was every other female he’d ever had contact with, for that matter. It looked as though gutsy Savannah was about to burst into tears.

  “It’s nothing,” she
said, her voice so low it was almost nonexistent. Her head was turned away from him and she was staring out the side window.

  “Tell me,” he insisted as he reached the freeway’s on ramp. He increased the car’s speed.

  Savannah clasped her hands together. “They won’t leave because of me. They seem to think I need a babysitter, that it’s their duty to watch over me.”

  “Are you sure you’re not being overly sensitive?”

  “I’m sure. Mom and Dad love to travel, and now that Dad’s retired they should be doing much more of it.”

  “They have the motor home.”

  “They seldom use it. Day trips, a drive to the ocean once or twice a year, and that’s about it. Dad would love to explore the East Coast in the autumn, but I doubt he ever will.”

  “Why not?”

  “They’re afraid something will happen to me.”

  “It sounds like they’re being overprotective.”

  “They are!” Savannah cried. “But I can’t force them to go, and they won’t listen to me.”

  He sensed that there was more to this story. “What’s the real reason, Savannah?” He made his words as coaxing as he could, not wanting to pressure her into telling him something she’d later regret.

  “They blame themselves for the accident,” she whispered. “They were leaving for a weekend trip that day and I was to stay with a babysitter. I’d wanted to go with them and when they said I couldn’t, I got upset. In order to appease me, Dad said I could ride my bicycle. Up until that time he’d always gone with me.”

  Nash chanced a look at her and saw that her eyes were closed and her body was rigid with tension.

  “And so they punish themselves,” she continued in halting tones, “thinking if they sacrifice their lives for me, it’ll absolve them from their guilt. Instead it increases mine.”

  “Yours?”

  “Do you mind if we don’t discuss this anymore?” she asked, sounding physically tired and emotionally beaten.

  The silence that followed was eventually broken by Savannah’s sigh of defeat.

  “When would you like me to start cooking your dinners?” she asked as they neared her shop.