The Marriage Wish

by Dee Henderson

  “Hi, Jennifer.” Lightning cracked as she opened the front door, and he saw her flinch. He stepped inside and quickly closed the door. She was dressed in a soft dove gray dress with a red sash and her hair pulled back by a matching red bow. She looked gorgeous. And slightly frightened. He slipped off his wet jacket and pulled her into a hug. “Okay?”

  Her head buried in his shoulder, she nodded. Another bolt of lightning lit up the living room, and she flinched. “I don’t like lightning.” Her perfume smelled like lilacs.

  “This storm is passing,” he said gently. “Give it another twenty minutes and I doubt it will even be raining.” He gently rubbed her back. “I really missed you,” he said lightly.

  She gave him a hug. “I missed you, too.” She stepped back and picked up his jacket. “Could we wait till this passes before we leave?”

  “Sure.”

  Jennifer put his jacket across one of the kitchen chairs and they went into the living room. Scott chose to sit in the easy chair instead of beside her on the couch. He would like nothing better than to kiss her, but he was not going to do so. At least not until this night was over. He smiled at the thought and forced himself away from the subject. “How is the book progressing?” he asked.

  Her face lit up. “I love this period of writing a book. I don’t have to worry about the details and the choice of words or the length of the scenes. I’ve just been sitting down and writing. I’ve made an enormous amount of progress. I love Granite. He is the perfect character. He is as clear in my mind as Thomas Bradford.”

  “I’m glad. I’ve been worried about how well you could make this transition. You’ve been writing about Thomas Bradford for years.”

  “I was comfortable, and I think that was becoming a problem. Great stories come from taking risks. This story feels more alive, more dramatic.”

  “Do you have any idea how long it will take to write?”

  “At least six months. It will be significantly longer than my other books. How did Denver turn out?”

  Scott told her about the people he had met, the places they had gone to eat, what the flight back had been like. The storm was beginning to drift west. The lightning had ended and there was simply a light rain falling when they eventually left for the restaurant. Scott had chosen a small Chinese restaurant that not many people in the city knew about. They were escorted to a private table in the back of the room where Scott held her chair for her. The menu was in Chinese.

  “A friend owns this place. If you don’t mind, I’ll order for us. Is there anything in particular you don’t like?” Scott asked.

  “No.”

  The waiter spoke with an accent. Jennifer smiled. It was obvious Scott knew him well. The two men conferred for several minutes comparing dishes. The man left with a smile and a promise to bring hot tea.

  Jennifer relaxed. She was going to enjoy tonight.

  The courses came and kept coming. A ceremonial teapot and small bowls of soup came first. The waiter placed a second larger bowl between them. “The soup is a type of sweet-and-sour soup, it has shrimp in it,” Scott said. “The other dish is a house specialty. They are wontons cooked in a very spicy chicken broth. I’ll warn you, they are very hot.”

  Jennifer carefully lifted one of the wontons from the dish. “These are delicious,” she said after sampling the dish.

  “I like them,” Scott agreed.

  The soup was followed by an assortment of fried rice dishes, a large platter of stir-fried vegetables, and then a shrimp and cashew dish that made Jennifer reach frequently for her water glass.

  “I’m sorry. I should have ordered something less spicy.”

  “Are you kidding? This is wonderful. Jerry didn’t like hot and spicy, and I love it.”

  Scott smiled and offered her one of the fresh-baked rolls to take away some of the effect.

  She was going to make a wonderful wife, Scott thought, not for the first time. They had so much in common. Music, fishing, food. They both came from close families. Scott loved to listen to her laugh. She was relaxed tonight, and he was seeing Jennifer as she had been in the pictures before the death of Jerry and Colleen. Alive, happy. He could only hope she was drifting toward the same conclusion.

  They left the restaurant almost two hours later. Scott held his jacket over her head as they ran to the car. It was barely raining, but it was an excuse to be near her. “I don’t want to take you home,” he admitted as he started the car.

  Jennifer was grinning. “Let’s go find somewhere to get a cup of coffee,” she offered.

  “Done.”

  He took them downtown to a five-star hotel that served gourmet coffee. At her suggestion they took the coffee into the atrium where a woman with a great voice played jazz standards at the piano. They settled into two comfortable chairs and shared a large chocolate chip cookie Scott had bought.

  She was falling in love with him. Jennifer was laughing when the realization struck; Scott had retold a funny story he’d heard in Denver, and she had started to laugh. In that instant she knew she was falling in love with him. It was a sobering realization.

  “Something wrong?”

  She shook her head, absorbing the impact in her heart, and then she smiled, brilliantly. “Everything is fine.”

  It was almost midnight when they finally turned into her drive. Scott came around the car to open her door for her. He paused on the porch. “Jennifer.”

  She turned to look up at him, and he smiled. “Can I kiss you?”

  It was a softly spoken query and it made her heart flutter. Jennifer wanted to blush, smile, put her arms around him. She simply nodded. Scott’s hands very gently held her head and he lowered his head. The kiss held such tenderness that Jennifer nearly cried. She was smiling when he stepped back. Scott looked pleased. “You’d best get inside,” he said huskily.

  “Hi, Jerry.” Jennifer sat down on the ground beside the headstone, her jeans and sweatshirt adequate protection for the cool, sunny afternoon. She had not been back to the grave site for over three months. She smiled sadly as she brushed the leaves from the smooth stone base. “I’ve got news I know you will be glad to hear.”

  She hugged her knees. She had woken up sad. “Scott’s a good man. He makes me laugh. I miss him when he’s not around. And it makes me incredibly sad, Jerry.” She plucked at the dying grass. “We were suppose to have a lifetime together, you and I. I don’t want to start over. How can love and sadness be so tightly intertwined?”

  She glanced over at the second headstone, the reason she very rarely visited here. “Are you having a good time with your daddy, Colleen?” She asked, smiling, crying at the same time.

  Chapter Ten

  Jennifer watched the group of ten youths as they paired off and played pool, mentally putting names and faces together. Scott had encouraged her to join him for the pizza and pool, one of the events he was involved in organizing as a youth group sponsor. The kids ranged in age from twelve to seventeen, and as a whole were a close-knit, fun group. “The boy in the blue shirt at the far table playing by himself—what’s his name?” Jennifer asked Scott’s friend Trish as she surveyed the room from the vantage point of the long table and chairs, the remains of six large pizzas still around them.

  “Kevin Philips. Fifteen.”

  “He’s hurting,” Jennifer commented, having formed the conclusion during the course of the evening. He had come across as angry and belligerent, and both Brad and Scott had spoken with him more than once. Jennifer looked below the surface, knowing there was a reason for the unreasonable behavior.

  Trish nodded. “Adopted two years ago by Jim and Rita Philips. He’d been in foster care since he was seven, no place more than a year, had rough years before that in an abusive home.”

  “And now that he is in a safe and loving environment, he’s letting himself feel the pain for the first time and he’s angry,” Jennifer concluded. “Giving Jim and Rita an extremely rough time in the process, I imagine.”

  �
�Got it in one,” Trish replied.

  “It must be like trying to hug a porcupine,” Jennifer said thoughtfully.

  Trish smiled, “Sad, isn’t it?”

  “Yeah,” Jennifer agreed, making a decision. God, I’ve got the faith to try. Do you have a way I can reach him? She picked up her glass. “Can you hold the fort here? I think I’ll see if there’s a way around the needles.”

  “Beat him at pool. He disdains amateurs, but he’ll respect a professional.”

  Jennifer looked surprised at the comment.

  “You’re the one who came in carrying a case with your own stick,” Trish replied. “Have you played Scott yet?”

  “No,” Jennifer replied with a smile. She had been watching Scott play, and he was good, but he wasn’t aggressive enough to deliberately take shots away from his opponent. She did it as naturally as breathing. She hadn’t played tonight, but she had a feeling Scott would probably wander over to see what she could do.

  “Be gentle with him,” Trish said with a smile.

  “Who? Scott or Kevin?”

  “Kevin. Scott can take care of himself,” Trish replied with a laugh.

  It turned out to be as aggressive a game as Jennifer had imagined. Kevin had consented unwillingly to actually play a game with her. When she’d drilled her first shot and placed the seven into a pocket off the bank and left the cue ball six inches away from a certain second shot, she’d got a look of surprise from him, but he’d said nothing, simply turned his full attention to the game. Jennifer didn’t mind. She hadn’t come over to talk. Respect was a good common ground to forge, and the pool table was as good a place as any to forge it. She beat him the first game and ignored the fact the others were rotating around to play each other.

  “Twenty bucks on the next game?” she asked quietly, pitching the triangle toward him.

  “Ten to four balls, ten for the game,” Kevin replied. “You’ve been playing a few years longer than I have.”

  Jennifer smiled. “Agreed.” He was conceding a win would be difficult, but if he got the cue ball early it would be possible to hit a run of four balls. She liked the way he thought.

  The game had his full concentration, and Jennifer had to admire the way he could tap a side rail shot. He got the break he had hoped for—her break had left the table open, and he took advantage to run the table. She saw the smile as he sank his fourth shot, saw the sense of accomplishment take away some of the anger and knew most of its joy came from the fact he had an opponent that wasn’t willing to make a win easy for him. He missed a tough fifth shot. Jennifer peeled off a ten from the money in her pocket and handed it to him as she circled the table to look at what kind of shot, if any, she still had left to take.

  Scott, walking toward them with a frown, disturbed her concentration but only for a moment. She focused on her shots, saw the angles and the force and began placing balls in the pockets with deliberation. She wasn’t worried about making Kevin look bad, the better she played, the more that ten dollars was going to mean to him.

  “Jen, can I talk to you for a moment?” Scott asked.

  Jennifer called the hole for the eight ball and sank it before she looked up. Ouch. Scott was not happy.

  “Kevin, buy us a plate of nachos and a couple colas. I’ll be back in a minute,” she told the teenager, who actually gave her a smile. She walked with Scott toward the side door.

  “He’s already got a gambling problem, Jen. The last thing we need is for a church youth group function to be fostering the problem.”

  “He earned the cash by his effort. Don’t knock that sense of accomplishment.”

  “It’s not good. Please, don’t do it again.”

  Jennifer sighed. “Scott, he’s going toe-to-toe with everyone around him, looking for who and what to respect. That cash is a trophy, not a gamble for thrill. He’s met someone better than him at the pool table and he knows it, and he earned that ten bucks with his effort. It mattered to him. He may not show it, but it mattered to him.”

  Scott conceded she was right. “I’m glad to see the fact you got beneath his edge, I’ll grant you that. But please, go cautious, Jen.”

  “Relax. An angry fifteen-year-old can still be managed. As long as you don’t suggest that’s what you’re doing.”

  Jennifer went to join Kevin and the plate of super supreme nachos he’d bought and had to smile at the interest coming from the other kids. She knew the game they’d played had been observed and commented on, and the food would certainly garner at least the guys attention. She slid into the booth across from Kevin and picked up the soda. “Who taught you to play pool?” she asked the boy.

  Scott slid out a chair at the end of the table where Trish and Brad were sitting so he could see the entire group of kids and keep an eye on Jennifer and Kevin sitting together in one of the booths.

  “She wiped the table with him. Did you see that five, seven split shot she took and made?” Brad asked him, his respect apparent.

  Scott smiled. “When she mentioned she played, she forgot to tell me she played seriously.” He could not believe some of the shots she had attempted and made. He wouldn’t even think to attempt them. He would ask her for a game later, just for the pleasure of watching her play.

  “I like her, Scott,” Trish said, watching her talk with Kevin.

  “So do I,” Scott replied. He was proud of her, proud of the way she had mingled with his friends and the group of kids. He might not agree with her actions, but he had to respect the fact she was willing to tackle the toughest kid in the group. He hoped she succeeded. It was important that someone reach Kevin and help him heal.

  “Jennifer’s place. Can I help you?”

  Interesting. Who was this? Scott found the young girl’s voice made him smile. “Hi, it’s Scott Williams. Who is this?”

  “Tiffany.”

  Sixth grade. Twelve years old. Thought Steve Sanders was the cutest boy on the planet. Was trying to make the track team this year. “Hi, Tiffany. Is your aunt Jennifer around?”

  “She’s out back with Dad working on the yard. I can get her for you,” the girl offered.

  “That’s okay. You might be able to answer my question. She said she was looking for one of the Precious Moments figurines. It’s a set of train cars with zoo animals. My sister found a couple of the pieces, and I don’t remember if she said she was missing the giraffe or the lion.”

  “Hold on and I’ll go look. I’d have to go look, anyway. Aunt Jennifer doesn’t go into that room anymore.”

  Out of the mouth of babes. Jen still had the nursery. Scott felt sick.

  The girl was back in a few moments. “It’s the giraffe.”

  Scott rubbed the tension is his forehead and tried to keep his voice light. “Thanks.”

  “Sure. Can I ask you something?”

  He smiled. “Of course.”

  “Are you really getting a dog? ’Cause I’d love to visit, and Aunt Jen talks about you all the time, and I thought it might be okay to ask.”

  Scott grinned. “I get Quigley in a couple days. Tell your aunt Jen you’ve got to come. I would love to have you over. I’ll need someone to baby-sit him when I have to be out of town, and Jen will need your help.”

  “Cool. I knew I was going to like you.”

  “Tell Jennifer I’ll call her this evening,” Scott said, pleased to have finally talked to the girl Jennifer bragged about with such love.

  He hung up the phone, and Heather reached over to grip his arm. “What’s wrong?” She was sorting the baby clothes she had found at garage sales that morning, the figurines she had also found sitting on the counter beside the clothes.

  “Twig, she’s still got the nursery. And according to her niece, Tiffany, she won’t even walk into the room anymore. Tiffany said it in such a matter-of-fact tone of voice, like it’s been this way for some time.”

  “You need to talk to her brother.”

  “Yeah. I do.” Scott wearily rubbed his eyes. It had been a bad wee
k at work, and it wasn’t getting better on a personal level, either. The anger between him and God still sat there, tempered with time, but there and needing to be dealt with.

  “Would you like to stay for dinner? I really appreciate you watching Greg and Amy for me.”

  Scott grinned. “You know I always have as much fun as your kids. Greg’s turning into a good basketball player. I’ll take a rain check on dinner, though, I’ve got mail to deal with and a youth group lesson to prepare. Frank gets back in town tomorrow?”

  “His flight comes in around six, so it will be just me and the kids at church tomorrow morning.”

  “Plan for us to go out for lunch. I promised Amy pizza.”

  “Thanks.”

  Scott kissed his sister’s cheek. “You’re welcome. Now get off your feet, Twig, you’re seriously pregnant.”

  She laughed and pushed him toward the door.

  Quigley found his new home fascinating. Jennifer, sitting on the floor in the doorway of Scott’s kitchen, watched the puppy circle the furniture in the dining room, suddenly turn and come full-speed back toward her when he got frightened by a dust ball. Jennifer caught him with a laugh. “What’s the matter, little guy?” He was pure black, furry, his face too big for the rest of his body. He licked her face.

  “I think he likes you.” Scott had leaned over the counter to peer down at the two of them. He was grinning.

  “I want to take him home,” Jennifer replied, snuggling with the puppy.

  “Sorry. You’ll just have to visit often to see him,” Scott replied. He came around and offered a helping hand to pull her to her feet. “Lunch is ready.”

  “I have to put him down?” Jennifer asked with regret.

  “If you don’t, he will eat your lunch,” Scott replied. “I know, he’s done it to me a few times.” Scott took the puppy, and Quigley immediately made himself comfortable, resting his head on Scott’s shoulder.

  “No, I’d say you don’t carry him around very much.”

  “He likes to go fishing,” Scott replied.