No Shadow (Prodigal Sons of Cane)

by Clemens, S. N.

  She wore the same brown suit and pink blouse she’d worn on the first day he’d seen her.

  He remembered seeing her in the sun that day two months ago—radiant, glowing, illuminated in the bright light. She glowed all the time, with or without the sun, her vibrant spirit shining through however she tried to hide it with her quiet demure. Today, she seemed to glow more than ever, and he couldn’t help hoping that some of her glow was because of him.

  She smiled as she approached, but as soon as she sat down next to him her expression changed to a suspicious frown. “Did you fix the lock on my front door?”

  Andrew had forgotten about that, but he managed to keep his response bland. “Excuse me?”

  “The lock on my front door. It always got stuck and I had to jiggle it. But miraculously it’s working perfectly now.” She peered at his face to catch any signs of guilt or admission.

  He hid a smile. “Well, that’s a piece of luck, isn’t it?”

  “It’s not luck. You fixed it. Without even telling me.”

  “Now why would I do that?”

  “For the same reason you changed the oil in my car without asking and trimmed the hedges in my front yard.” She sniffed, although he didn’t really think she was unhappy about the little things he’d found to do for her. “I can do all that myself, you know.”

  He let his suppressed smile appear but resisted putting an arm across the pew behind her. “But why should you?”

  Although he was trying to be careful about making any obvious romantic gestures to her without offering her a commitment, he’d let himself go at least in this. She’d been there for him in so many ways over the last two months. He wanted to make sure he was there for her too—in any way he could.

  Her frown softened as she gazed up at him. “I do appreciate it, you know.”

  “I haven’t admitted to doing a thing.”

  She snickered. “Right. Well, I do appreciate whoever is doing all these little things for me. I just want to make sure that person knows they’re not necessary.” Her expression changed, grew suddenly serious. Her voice softened as she continued, “I want to make sure that person doesn’t think he needs to do them for me to care about him.”

  “Whoever it is,” he said, keeping his voice low, “definitely knows that. He’s not trying to prove anything. He does them because he wants to, because he cares, and all he wants is for you to—“ He broke off abruptly, slammed out of the blue, without warning and without preparation.

  Slammed with a realization, a revelation, a crystal-clear understanding of the one thing that had eluded him for so long.

  “All you want is for me to what?” Helen asked, staring at him in confusion.

  He knew the answer now. The completion of the thought he’d been trying to explain to Helen. And the answer to his own deepest need.

  All he wants is for you to accept it, be happy, respond in gratitude to his acts of love. Say Amen.

  The truth hit him so hard, with so much pure force, that he couldn’t hold his head up. He had to lean forward, rest his head on his hands.

  “Andrew,” Helen murmured, speaking softly to keep the conversation private even though her voice was thick with anxiety. “What is it? What’s wrong?”

  Nothing was wrong. Something was right. And he finally knew it with his heart as much as his mind.

  If he could do things in love for Helen without wanting anything more than grateful acceptance, how much more could God give what He had—give everything—expecting Andrew to do nothing more in response but say yes?

  The worship service started. He vaguely heard Pastor Jack inviting the congregation to rise for the call to worship. Andrew couldn’t rise.

  He was conscious of Helen beside him. She hadn’t stood up either, but she hadn’t questioned him again. He must look like a fool, hunched over in the pew when the rest of the worshippers had started to sing the first hymn.

  But he couldn’t move. There was something more important happening here. More important than his pride. Even more important than his feelings for Helen.

  He knew. He knew. All he needed to do was say yes.

  It must have been several minutes later because it was in the middle of the congregational prayer. He felt Helen’s hand on his back, gently rubbing in slow circles. She was worried about him. He really should give her some sort of explanation.

  He took a deep breath and managed to turn his head.

  Her blue eyes were swimming with tears that hadn’t yet fallen. “Just tell me,” she whispered, “if it’s good or bad.”

  “It’s good,” he said, his voice thick and low. “Amen.”

  The tears fell. “Amen?”

  He knew she understood. “Amen.”

  Her shoulders started to shake and more tears streamed down her face, but she didn’t bother to brush them away. Like him, she wasn’t conscious of anyone else in the sanctuary.

  Just him. And what he’d finally let go.

  Andrew wasn’t able to stand up until the final hymn. He spent the service praying, processing, pulling himself together.

  When he finally stood up, he knew it wasn’t an accident that they were singing “Great is Thy Faithfulness.”

  Pastor Jack looked down at them from the pulpit with a smile. Obviously knew what had happened. Didn’t even look surprised.

  Helen started crying again as they sung, but Andrew wasn’t even tempted. He felt like he had as a boy. Free. Liberated from the burdens he’d carried for so long. Finally ready to act.

  Amen. Amen. Amen.

  ***

  As soon as she and Andrew had gotten to her father’s house for lunch, Helen went to the bathroom to check out her face.

  She was a blubbery mess. Her mascara was smudged under her eyes, and all of the powder and lip gloss she’d put on that morning were gone. Her cheeks were blotchy red, and her eyes were slightly swollen. She washed her face clean, but it didn’t help very much. Finally, after combing out her loose hair, she just shrugged and went to join the men.

  It would have been nice if she could look pretty today, but she couldn’t seem to muster up a whole lot of concern. She couldn’t even be embarrassed that she’d cried openly and messily through the whole church service.

  She couldn’t remember ever being so happy. Ever being so sure of God’s presence and power. And while a little girlish part of herself was brimming with excitement because this meant that she and Andrew could now officially become a couple, that was not the largest part of her joy.

  Most of it was for Andrew. For the step he’d finally taken.

  When she came out of the bathroom, she found him at the kitchen table talking to her father. They ate lunch—a chicken and rice casserole that one of the ladies in the church had brought for her father—and by the end Andrew had basically explained his spiritual revelation.

  Her father could discuss theology and God’s work in the world for hours on end without stopping, but Helen could tell Andrew was getting tired and that all this sharing, for such a reserved man, had worn on him.

  So she changed the subject as she picked up the dishes from the table. “How long is Geoff going to stay in town?”

  “Just until tomorrow,” Andrew replied. “His daughter is staying at her grandparents, but he wants to get back to her as soon as he can.”

  “That makes sense. Does he have a girlfriend?”

  “Geoff? No. I don’t think so. I don’t know how much he’s dated since his wife died.”

  “He’s a good-looking man and a doctor,” she said with a laugh. “I’m sure he’ll have his pick whenever he decides he wants one.”

  Andrew arched his eyebrows as he got up to pick up the casserole dish. “So you think he’s good-looking?”

  Helen giggled as his disapproving expression. She was about to say not nearly as good-looking as Andrew but she changed her mind at the realization that her father was watching them in amusement. She settled for, “He’s not my type.”

  This ap
peared to be a good answer. Andrew gave her a grin that made him look devastatingly handsome.

  Still suffering the shivery aftermath of the grin, Helen put the lunch plates in the kitchen sink. When she turned it on, she noticed it didn’t spray water everywhere as it normally did. “Did you finally fix the faucet, Dad?”

  “What?” Jack gave her a blank look. “Is it fixed?”

  Helen aimed a suspicious look at Andrew, whose face remained bland and unrevealing. For some reason, his expression made her feel so meltingly fond that she had to hold herself back from squeezing him in a hug.

  She actually loved that he went around trying to fix things for her. She knew his nature led him to take care of whoever was in his circle of responsibility, and it gave her giddy flutters to think that she was now in that circle. That even her father was in that circle.

  She loved that he noticed things that no one else would bother with—her loose lock, her father’s faucet—and unobtrusively took care of them, without even being asked. It spoke so much about the kind of man he was, about the strong, generous heart he had.

  Other than that one kiss, Andrew hadn’t made any romantic advances on her this week. She hoped—assumed—he was holding himself back until he’d figured things out.

  At heart, he was as old-fashioned as she was. He was a gentleman, and he didn’t want to lead her on.

  But now that things had changed, she was hoping for a little more direct acknowledgement of his feelings. Maybe a date.

  When lunch was over and she finally walked him to the door to say goodbye, she couldn’t help but hope he would say something. Or at least give her a hug.

  He didn’t. He just looked down on her, with a softness in his eyes she’d seen a lot lately. “Will you come by this evening?”

  She wanted to. Wanted to spend as much time with him as possible. But she shook her head. “I can’t. Lorraine and I are hanging out. We already made plans.”

  “No problem. Maybe tomorrow evening.”

  “If you’re not busy, maybe we can have lunch sometime this week.” Helen felt very nervous about asking him that. Not because she was afraid of being rejected, but because the invitation made it clear she wanted to spend time alone with him. She loved Melissa and had a wonderful time with her, but she also wanted to be with Andrew on his own. “Tuesday is my lunch day with Lorraine, and I have a meeting on Thursday, but maybe one of the other days.”

  Andrew’s mouth twisted in a frown. “I can’t tomorrow—I have to drive Geoff to the airport. And on Wednesday I have a conference call.”

  Her heart sank at what felt like a rejection. She was confident of his feelings for her, however, so she was determined not to read too much into it. She was through hiding in the shadows, always expecting the man of her dreams to overlook her in favor of someone else.

  Andrew was the man of her dreams, and he hadn’t overlooked her.

  “Maybe on Friday, then.”

  His voice unusually gentle, Andrew said, “I have a meeting on campus on Friday at one. With the Dean and Tom Harrison. About the manuscript.”

  Despite the great joy she’d experienced today, a little pang shot through her heart at this news.

  She’d forgotten all about the manuscript.

  Chapter Fourteen

  “Don’t be ridiculous,” Lorraine said with a scowl as she sat across from Helen in the campus cafeteria.

  Helen picked at her salad. “I know. I’m trying not to. But it does feel like he’s stalling—for no good reason. It’s been almost a week. Why hasn’t he said anything about…about moving our relationship forward?”

  “Who knows? But obviously he’s interested in doing so. Haven’t you seen him every day this week?”

  “Yeah. But only with Melissa.”

  “How’s she doing anyway?” Lorraine’s dark eyes—normally so sharp and clever—softened a little at the question.

  “She’s doing a lot better. Definitely back to normal.”

  “Maybe Andrew is still worried about her and doesn’t want to leave her alone if he doesn’t have to.”

  Helen took a deep breath, inhaling the inevitable cafeteria scent of musty old building and fried food. “Yeah. That’s probably part of it. I know he likes me and I mean a lot to him. I just wish he wanted to be alone with me.”

  “Maybe he’s worried about being alone with you,” Lorraine said, twitching her eyebrows mischievously. “Worried about what he might do.”

  Helen snorted. “Right. I don’t think there’s much chance of that. He hasn’t tried to touch me all week.” As silly as it sounded, she was a little hurt by his standoffishness.

  She certainly didn’t expect very much—but surely a little hand-holding or an arm draped around her shoulders would be all right. He’d implied that once he got himself straight with God, he would pursue something romantic with her, but he’d made more advances before he’d figured things out. “Maybe he’s just decided he’s not interested after all.”

  “Don’t even start,” Lorraine snapped.

  “Well, how else do you explain it? Nothing is holding him back now, but he hasn’t done a thing. Hasn’t said anything. Hasn’t made a single romantic gesture since the…”

  Lorraine’s eyebrows shot sky-high. “Since the what?”

  Helen had been too shy to tell Lorraine before, but now she admitted, “Since he kissed me a couple of weeks ago. After the whole hospital thing.”

  Clapping her hands in delight, Lorraine said, “Well, there you have it. I can’t believe you didn’t tell me before. Obviously, he’s into you. I know a lot of men kiss women at the drop of a hat, whether they’re serious or not, but I don’t think he would. Not now.”

  “That’s what I thought,” Helen moaned, rubbing her scalp in frustration. “But why doesn’t he say anything?”

  “Maybe he’s just nervous.”

  “He doesn’t really seem like the nervous type. Maybe he’s just realized how complicated it’s going to be. He lives in D.C. I live here.”

  Lorraine shrugged. “So you can be long-distance for a while. You’d be willing to move eventually, wouldn’t you?”

  “Of course. I love my job. But if I were getting married…” Helen didn’t let herself finish, not wanting to get her hopes up or assume they had a future when they hadn’t even gone on their first date.

  “I think you’re worrying for nothing. The man is obviously crazy about you. Give him a little more time.”

  “Right.” Helen nodded resolutely and pulling herself out of her doldrums. “That’s what I’m trying to do. I do know he likes me. He’s showed me in all kinds of ways. I’m not going to assume the worst. I’m not.”

  “That’s the spirit. No more shadows for you.”

  “Exactly.” She slumped a little again. “It’s just so hard to be patient. I’m still a little insecure.”

  “Aren’t we all?” Lorraine said with a laugh. Changing the subject, she added, “So he’s on campus now, meeting about the manuscript?”

  Helen slumped even more. Despite her vigilant work at getting over her disappointment, she still felt a heavy ache in her gut at the knowledge. “Yeah. They’re probably making some sort of gesture at negotiations, but the library doesn’t have a chance. Andrew is going to get it.”

  “I know you’re disappointed about that, but surely you can trust that he’ll take good care of it.”

  “Yeah. He finally told me the whole story about why he wants it so much. It’s for his grandmother. I guess one of the Harrisons courted her when she was a teenager, and he told her all about Geneva Bale and used the romantic passages in the novel as part of his courtship. It has sentimental value to her. You know how committed Andrew is to his family. He’d do anything to make them happy. It’s sweet that he’s willing to buy it for her.”

  “But you still think it would be better off in the library’s collection.”

  “Don’t you?”

  “Of course. But I guess we always have to make sacrifices
, don’t we?”

  Helen felt a little lump in her throat as she admitted, “I care more about Andrew than I do about the manuscript.”

  Chuckling wryly, Lorraine concluded, “If that’s not true love, I don’t know what is.”

  ***

  Helen was working in her office a couple of hours later when Judy tapped on the door. “You busy?”

  “No,” she said, looking up from her computer. “Come on in.” She studied her supervisor’s face carefully as the older woman seated herself with meticulous grace in a chair next to the desk.

  Helen knew what was going to happen. She could see it in the sympathetic reserve on Judy’s face.

  She was going to announce that Andrew Cane had bought the manuscript.

  “So the manuscript is settled, is it?” Helen asked, to make it easier on the other woman. Despite her perfect propriety, Judy had a very tender heart.

  “It is. We didn’t have a chance.”

  “I know. As soon as the Dean wouldn’t raise our offer, I knew.” Helen closed her eyes, processing the disappointment and knowing she was mature enough to handle it.

  “We came out pretty well, considering,” Judy added. “I assume you had something to do with it.”

  Helen drew her brows together. “What do you mean?”

  “You’ve spoken to Andrew about his plans, I assume.”

  “No. I’ve felt a little weird about asking him—I didn’t want to lay a guilt trip on him or anything. And he’s hasn’t said anything about it. Where is he planning to keep it? As long as there are some decent security measures in place, it will probably be okay.”

  Judy’s face broke out into a smile. “So you really don’t know? He’s housing it at the library. In the Bale collection.”

  Helen blinked. “What?”

  “It’s true. I thought you were the one who talked him into it.”

  “I didn’t talk him into anything,” Helen mumbled, trying to process what she’d just heard. “He’s keeping it in the library?”