by Lois Richer
“Gee, thanks,” Maryann muttered, her face tinged a dark pink. “I think I’ll go before you offer any more of your sweet-talking compliments on my appearance.”
She hurried up the stairs, stumbling as she turned too quickly and her heel caught in the carpet.
“See, that’s what I mean.” Clay jerked his thumb toward the departing woman. “She always dresses up way too much for this place. Why doesn’t she just wear normal clothes instead of those expensive dresses and fancy things?”
A resounding slam echoed back downstairs. Caitlin sighed, wishing she’d never come out here. Clay had singlehandedly done more to set back his own cause with Maryann than she could ever manage to correct, even if she paid for professional dance lessons for him.
She saw Beth jerk her head at Jordan and his almost imperceptible nod. Moments later he had his arm around Clay’s shoulders.
“Clay, you and I need to have a chat, a man-toman discussion.” He shepherded the other man into Caitlin’s apartment and firmly grasped the door handle to close the door.
“Well, maybe some other time. Caitlin was teaching me to dance!”
Clay’s plaintive voice made Caitlin smile. She watched him stick his foot in the space.
“I haven’t got a lot of time to waste talking, you know, Jordan.” He sounded frustrated.
Jordan nodded. “Believe me, pal, I know just how little time you have! And we won’t waste a minute of it. Besides, Caitlin’s supposed to be getting a manicure from Beth right about now. Isn’t that right?” he said over his left shoulder to the woman who stood holding her much maligned boots.
“Yes. Right.” Beth scooped up the box and moved toward her apartment door. “Come on, Caitlin. Let’s get at it.”
Caitlin frowned at her hands and the fingernails she’d trimmed, filed and polished only that afternoon. That bit of pampering had filled in one of the long, lonely hours of her second Monday off work, but she didn’t want to go through it all over again tonight.
“But I just…” She felt her arm yanked and scurried behind Beth into the apartment. “I’ve already done my nails today,” she complained when the door had closed behind them.
“Fine. Then we’ll do them again. Or we’ll have tea. Or play Scrabble. Whatever. Let’s just give those two a few moments alone together.”
“You mean Jordan and Clay? But why?” Caitlin stared at her old school friend in puzzlement.
“Because Jordan can tell that guy a few home truths that you, even with all your careful wording, would never be able to explain to Clay Matthews.” She ushered Caitlin through her bright red-and-white living room to the kitchen she’d decorated in the same vibrant colors.
“I shouldn’t have said that,” she admitted. “It’s not his fault. It’s just too bad he grew up with six brothers and a mother too tired from running a farm and raising those boys to have any time left over to teach the social niceties,” she grumbled.
“This looks really nice.” Caitlin admired the other woman’s panache in decorating. “My place is dull and boring beiges and greens. Nothing like this.”
“Your place is perfectly beautiful,” Beth staunchly defended. “I didn’t have much money to work with after setting up the shop, so I made my statement another way. The paint wasn’t much and the stencils really add something.”
“I like it. Veronica’s out?”
“My sister is making her millions baby-sitting for the entire town.” Beth rolled her eyes. “She desperately wants some new cool clothes, and since I need her help in the shop in the afternoons, she’s decided to baby-sit in the evenings. She’s been great about everything, moving here, changing schools, making new friends.”
“That’s good.” Caitlin wished she had a sister to room with. It must be nice to have someone to talk to when you needed an ally, someone who would sympathize unconditionally.
“I noticed you in church yesterday.”
“Yes.” Caitlin sighed. “Jordan and his mother wouldn’t take no for an answer. In the end, I guess he was right. It felt nice to be back in the old place. I notice the organ hasn’t changed.”
Beth giggled as she put on the kettle. “Isn’t it awful? That squeak has been there for years and nobody seems inclined to get rid of it. Sort of makes it feel more like home though, doesn’t it?”
“I guess.” Caitlin shifted from the bar stool to a kitchen chair. “I don’t know. The truth is, I feel a little strange sitting in that church. Sort of guilty.”
“Guilty?” Beth sat down opposite her and frowned. “For heaven’s sake, what have you got to feel guilty for?”
Caitlin liked the way Beth sat there, waiting for her to explain. No pressure, no pushiness. Just the honest interest of a friend.
“It’s, well, kind of hard to explain.” Caitlin fought down the urge to pretend there was nothing wrong.
Beth sat where she was, her eyes softly sympathetic.
“I’ve blamed God, you see,” Caitlin murmured, embarrassed at having to admit such a thing. “I couldn’t understand why Michael had to die, not when He knew we were going to have a baby. It seems so callous, not something a caring God would do.”
“Yes, I suppose it does.” Beth twiddled her fingers, grinning when Caitlin’s surprised eyes met hers. “Hey, I never said I was perfect. I’ve often wondered why I had to grow up in the home I did. I didn’t cause my dad’s problems, so why should Veronica and I have to pay for them?”
Other people questioned God? The very idea of it was so new to Caitlin that she simply stared at her friend in disbelief.
“I was really angry at Him for dumping me in such a situation and then abandoning me. I used to envy you, Caitlin.”
“Me?” Caitlin gaped, thinking of her scared, lonely teens. “Why would anyone envy me?”
“Because you lived with your aunt in a calm, fightfree house. You had it all together. Nobody yelled at you or called you an idiot. You were smart. You didn’t have to look out for anyone.”
“I couldn’t have,” Caitlin admitted quietly. “It was hard enough watching out for myself. And I had nothing together. I still don’t.”
“Besides, your aunt was no smiling violet,” Beth added. “You don’t have to tell me. I learned that later. That’s partly how I found the nerve to face up to the ruins of my life and move on.”
She walked to the stove, poured the boiling water into a brown earthenware pot and added two tea bags. “It’s also how I found out God is bigger than anything I can lay before Him. I asked Him to show me what to do next when my marriage broke down and He led me up north. Even though we fought, I learned how much my husband loved me and I began to understand that God cared for me more than I could imagine.”
She set two big mugs on the table, poured the tea, retrieved the cream and sugar for Caitlin and then sat down.
“Just because I made a whole bunch of mistakes with my life, just because everything wasn’t a bed of roses, didn’t mean God had dumped on me. Even though all my circumstances changed, my duty remained the same.”
“Your duty?” Caitlin accepted the mug of tea and sipped carefully, trying to sort through what she was hearing. “What duty?”
“I should have explained better.” Beth scrunched up her eyes and thought before starting again.
“You see, Caitlin, if I wanted God to show me His way, I had to make Him the king of my life. Once I did that I had to accept His authority. Nobody gets to question a king. He makes the decisions He does and His subjects deal with them.” She passed a bag of chocolate cookies across the table.
“I needed to accept that my life was the way it was. Period. I couldn’t change the past, I couldn’t change the people. I could only move on, follow God’s leading. That was the biggest relief. It was all up to Him.” She grinned.
“And so here you are.”
“Here I am, back where I started, thanks to you. Trying to do what God tells me, to follow His lead, even though I don’t understand it. I just have to believe that His way is best. T
hat’s my duty.”
“Duty. Hmm.” Caitlin thought that one over, before glancing up into her friend’s bright gaze. “What do you think my duty is, Beth?”
“Sweetie, I can’t answer that. No one can. That’s between you and God.”
“I was afraid you’d say that. It just makes things worse.” Caitlin heaved a sigh and closed her eyes. “God doesn’t talk to me.”
“How do you know that? Maybe you’re just not listening. I do know that you’ll never find out if you don’t spend time talking to Him. Believe me, I know it’s hard! But we only go on making more mistakes without some heavenly direction.”
Beth’s small delicate fingers, punctured by the thorns and rough stems of the flowers she handled, closed around Caitlin’s.
“You have to let go of the anger and the worry and the frustration, Cait I know it’s hard to fathom, but God would never do anything to deliberately hurt us. We usually bring that on ourselves. We just have to learn from it and move on.”
“That’s almost exactly what Jordan said,” Caitlin murmured.
“And he’s right. Jordan wants to help. He wants to be there for you, to do whatever you want him to. He cares for you, Caitlin.”
“That’s the hardest part of all,” Caitlin whispered, relieved to have finally said it out loud. “I can’t care for Jordan. Not like I did for Michael, not the way I think he wants. I…it hurts too much.” And even that wasn’t the truth. Not all of it, at least.
“And you think he’ll take off the same way everyone else did.” Beth’s voice was flat. “I can’t tell you he won’t, Cait. Nobody can do that except God and He doesn’t usually tell us His plans for the future.”
“So what do I do?”
“You let him be your friend. You let him share in the joy of the baby, let him be an uncle. And you leave the rest up to God. If He wants you to do something, He’ll show you.”
“That’s all?”
Beth grinned. “Isn’t that enough? Just take it one day, one step at a time. Jordan cares for you. Anyone can tell that by looking at his face, by watching him when he’s watching you. But he’s not Michael, honey. He’s not going to rush you into anything. For now, I think it’s enough for him to be there, helping you however he can. And you don’t exactly repel him, you know.”
She didn’t answer. She couldn’t. She wanted Jordan nearby, wanted him to be there, wanted to count on him. She just didn’t think she could risk loving him.
Caitlin shifted uncomfortably in her chair. She’d deal with apologizing to Maryann in the morning. Somehow. “Do you think they’re finished their manto-man talk now?”
“I don’t know. But they can take it elsewhere. You need your rest.” Beth marched to the door, opened it and led Caitlin across the hall. “Pregnant women need less stress in their lives, not more,” she said loudly.
“All anyone seems to want me to do is rest,” Caitlin mourned. “It’s very tiring.”
“I know you’re tired. Hang on a sec.” Her friend planted her knuckles against the wood and rapped.
Beth heard only what she wanted to hear, Caitlin mused. Maybe she was like that, too. She ignored the harsher parts of life, tried to gloss them over, so she wouldn’t have to face them.
“Sorry, Lyn. Clay and I can take this somewhere else.” Jordan smiled easily, his golden eyes glowing behind the glasses. “You get some rest.”
Clay ambled to the door behind him. They both looked like they were hiding something.
“I wish everyone would stop saying that. I don’t want to rest, I want to help Clay learn to dance so he can ask Maryann out.” She slapped her hands on her hips and glared at the three of them. “If that’s all right with you?”
Beth shrugged, murmured good-night and retreated to her apartment. Clay shuffled from one foot to the other uncomfortably but didn’t offer a word of protest when she urged him inside her place. Jordan followed, closing the door behind him as Caitlin started the music once more.
“We do not require an audience,” she told him firmly.
“I know. I’ll just watch, see if I can help old Clay out with his footwork.” Jordan flopped down on the sofa, his smile wide and endearing. “I won’t be in the way, I promise.”
No matter how much she glared at him, Jordan didn’t move. Caitlin felt uncomfortably self-conscious as she urged Clay to take the lead. He wasn’t even trying.
“I’m not that old, you know,” he blurted as he stood in the middle of the room. “I just can’t seem to dance.”
“Here, let me show you.” Jordan slid his arm around Caitlin’s waist, and wrapped his fingers around her hand. “You don’t push her back and forth like a sack of potatoes, Clay. You glide to the music. You choose the path and she’ll follow. See?”
Caitlin allowed herself to sway to the music, effortlessly following Jordan’s lead. He was as surefooted in dancing as he was in everything else and for once she appreciate his confidence. It was much nicer to dance with a man who knew where he was going.
The music was soft and dreamy. Caitlin closed her eyes and drifted as a plaintive saxophone drew the last few notes out, pretending she was young again, instead of the age she felt right now.
“You’re a wonderful dancer,” Jordan murmured, his mouth next to her ear. “You really get into the music.”
Another tune started and he kept going, sweeping her out of her dowdy surroundings and into a magical place where everything was perfect. She could hear a waterfall and a bird twittered in the background. In her mind’s eye she could see lush green grass and wildflowers swaying in the breeze.
“It’s easy to dance when you have a good partner.” Caitlin opened her eyes and transported herself back to reality. “But I’m supposed to be helping Clay.” She glanced around, spying the other man who stood staring out the window.
“I know.” Jordan let her go without another word, watching silently. “Ready to try again, Clay?”
“It’s nice of you to try to help me, Caitlin,” Clay muttered as he took her hand and started to move the way she’d instructed. “But I don’t think there’s much point. Even if I could master these steps and feel comfortable doing them, I wouldn’t know what to say to her.”
“Talk about anything,” Caitlin encouraged. “There’s no set subject you have to discuss.”
Jordan smiled to himself. Lyn was getting a little frustrated with this particular pupil. He could see it in the crease at the corner of her mouth when she reminded the erstwhile lover that Maryann was a mortal woman who was perfectly capable of conversing on a number of subjects.
“Do you think she’s beautiful?” he heard her say.
Clay snorted. “Of course she’s beautiful. Anyone with eyes can see that.”
“Then why don’t you tell her so? You can compliment her on her eyes or her lovely hair or on what she’s wearing.”
Jordan winced along with Caitlin when Clay’s big foot covered hers for the umpteenth time. She should have worn steel-toed boots!
“Her hair always reminds me of Naida’s,” Clay was saying.
Jordan frowned, hoping Caitlin would pick up on that.
“That’s nice. But I don’t think you should necessarily compare her to another woman.” Her foot avoided his just in time.
“Naida’s a sheep,” Jordan murmured and watched as her eyes, now focused on Clay’s, widened in a stare of shock. She forgot the music completely, staring at him as if he had just sprouted horns.
“You can’t compare Maryann’s hair to sheep’s wool!” Shock rendered her incapable of dancing and Caitlin stood where she was, her mouth an O of astonishment.
“But I like sheep’s wool,” Clay insisted. “It’s so soft. And the oil on it is really good for chapped skin.”
Jordan held his breath, choking down the laugh that burbled inside as he caught sight of Caitlin’s stricken face. Her mouth opened and closed several times as she sought for the right words, but evidently there were none. She flopped into her chair wit
h an air of utter futility, her eyes begging him for help.
Jordan got to his feet, wondering how he’d landed himself in this fix. The only person he’d even consider playing Cupid for was Caitlin. He just couldn’t bring himself to ignore the mute desperation in her eyes.
He’d help her. After all, that was his role now, wasn’t it? Big brother, uncle? He’d told her he was there for her whenever she needed him. Well, Caitlin Andrews needed him now.
“Clay,” he sighed, motioning the other man to the remaining chair. “It’s not a good idea to compare women, especially one you care about, to animals. Not in that way. If you want to talk about your animals, that’s fine. But if you like her hair, just tell her that. You don’t have to pretend to be something you’re not.”
Ha, his conscience jabbed him. Wasn’t that exactly what he was doing right now, with his brother’s wife? He was pretending to be her good friend, the brother-in-law who only wanted to help.
Well, he wanted a whole lot more than that! And if he told the truth, he always had. Shock reverberated through his system as the knowledge he’d deliberately hidden burst forth into the light.
Vaguely Jordan realized with some part of his mind, that Lyn and Clay were talking about goatskins. But he couldn’t deal with that now. The truth that erupted inside his mind took his complete and total concentration.
He loved her! He always had. Even when he’d been so busy playing chivalrous big brother, he’d been in love with Caitlin. So why had he stood aside for Michael?
The answer was hard to accept.
Michael was young. He’d lived life to the max and he didn’t worry too much about the future. Caitlin, in her shy, protected world, had gravitated to that like a bee to honey. He’d seen it himself the first time he’d introduced them. She’d been enthralled by Michael’s shining light, riveted by his boyish joie de vivre.
By contrast, Jordan felt old and boring. And he was! He was older than both of them. He didn’t want to speed around in fast cars or go to exciting parties. He didn’t have to search for a vocation. He’d always known he’d be in computers. The same way he’d always known Caitlin would come back to him.