Of course, if she was a redhead who looked incredible in a red Christmas dress . . . or black party dress . . . or blue jean cut-offs, that would be fine, as well.
With an amazing swoop of insight, Nate realized he’d just described Amanda, almost down to her red-tipped toenails. He closed his eyes as his veins vibrated with the weight of the truth. There was a reason he’d been so frustrated in O’Brien’s when she was emphatic about never marrying.
I’m in love with her, he thought. Looking back, Nate realized he’d fallen so gradually he hadn’t even registered the process. Shoving her presents in his closet was the act of a tormented lover gone wacky.
Now what? He opened his eyes and looked at her again.
She was studying him like an astronomer who’s mesmerized by a newly discovered planet. “Are you okay?” she questioned. “You really haven’t been acting like yourself lately—for quite a while, actually.”
“Who, me?” Nate questioned and noticed her eyes were puffy and tear-smeared. Even so, she was still more exquisite than all the stars.
“No, I’m talking to the mouse sitting on your shoulder,” she quipped.
“Humph.” Nate looked down, rested his elbows on his knees, and gazed at the deck’s fresh lumber. “So I haven’t been acting like myself?”
“Absolutely not,” she said.
Nate sensed her examining the top of his head. In a fit of panic, he feared she might be able to see his thoughts. Even though logic insisted his feelings were irrational, he jerked his head up, straightened, and silently appraised her.
She leaned forward, and a line formed between her brows. Without a blink, Amanda said, “Be honest with me, Nate. Are you seeing a woman?” Her mouth twisted over the word woman. “You’re acting like a—a husband who’s gotten distracted with some female his wife won’t be happy about.”
Nate laughed.
Amanda narrowed her reddened eyes. “Please don’t do that. I don’t like it,” she snapped and crossed her legs with a vengeance.
Oh yeah, he thought, and I’d want my wife to be feisty.
“Are you really never going to get married, Amanda?” Nate asked and was tempted to tell her the truth. Yes, I’m seeing a woman. I’m seeing her in my dreams . . . in my daydreams. I’m seeing her photo in my office—the one I shoved in my desk drawer, then pulled back out. I’m looking at her now.
She gazed past him, tucked her bobbed hair behind her ear, and barely shrugged.
“You told me in O’Brien’s you were going to stay with your dad until . . . well, as long as he needs you. Are those still your plans?” Nate panted for the slightest hint that Amanda might have thought of him in some vein other than invisible friend or brother. If she gave him only the tiniest encouragement, Nate might very well act like Mason, fall to his knees, and beg her to marry him.
“Well . . .” she hedged and fumbled with the tissue in her hands. “I guess if I did meet someone—”
“And have you?”
“Uh . . .”
“Want to tell me about him?” Nate gripped the iron chair’s cool hand rests.
“Uh . . .”
“Someone I know?” He inched forward.
She stood. “I think this conversation has gone far enough.”
“Why?” Nate stood, as well. His chair scraped against the deck. “You asked me about my mystery woman. Why shouldn’t I be allowed to ask you the same sort of questions?” His brows rose.
Amanda’s lips quivered. “There is someone, isn’t there?” she pressed.
Nate searched her eyes for any hint of an attraction, any encouragement whatsoever . . . anything that would let him know if he told her the truth she’d be receptive. But all he saw was Amanda flirting with Franklyn West.
In O’Brien’s she’d been emphatic about never marrying. Now she wasn’t quite as committed to that whole plan. She hadn’t indicated that Nate had done anything to change her mind. But she had spent the last month and all of this evening making eyes at Angie’s stepson.
Nate’s wild hopes plummeted.
“Well, are you going to answer me?” Amanda asked.
His first inclination was to remain evasive, then Nate decided to just be honest. “Yes,” he said.
“Yes, what? Yes, you’ll answer me, or yes there’s a . . . a . . . a woman?” she said as if “woman” tasted atrocious.
“Yes to both,” Nate replied and barely smiled despite himself.
Amanda’s mouth fell open.
And you’re the woman! he added and wondered if the idea of another woman might jolt Amanda to jealousy. If she were jealous, then perhaps her feelings ran deeper than even she realized.
“What did you think, Amanda, that I’d act like you and want to stay single forever? Like I already told you, I’m a man.” He pressed his fingertips against his chest. “I’m not your sister or your girlfriend. I have desires for a wife like any other man.”
“So you’re going to marry her?” she gasped.
“Who knows?” Nate shrugged and searched her demeanor for any scrap of jealousy. All he encountered was shock mixed with vestiges of Franklyn West. “I guess that all depends on her,” he said and nudged the toe of his shoe against the chair’s leg.
A quiet voice suggested Nate was blurring the lines of honesty a bit. He considered clarifying the fact that there really wasn’t another woman—only the one he was talking with. But Nate realized he’d talked himself into a trap. Telling Amanda that she was the woman meant he’d risk the same rejection Mason had endured. While there were many comical facets to that whole ordeal, Nate couldn’t say he’d laugh if he were dealt the same fate. He couldn’t tell Amanda who this “other woman” was—not yet, anyway. Maybe not ever.
“There you two are!” Angie’s voice floated from the house. “I was afraid you’d left without my knowing it, Amanda. Franklyn is asking for you.”
Nate’s chest tightened.
Amanda jabbed the tissue at her eyes again, sniffed hard, and strode toward her surrogate mother. “Sorry to desert you,” Amanda said, her voice strained. “We were just talking,” she continued as if they’d been chatting about nothing.
Eighteen
Sunday, after morning services, Amanda sat in Haley’s sunroom and nibbled the Big Mac she’d picked up on the way to Haley’s. But she couldn’t even enjoy the special sauce this time. She’d purchased a burger for each of them along with a large fry they were sharing. Haley was half finished with her burger and slurping her soda.
“I can’t believe how much better I feel today than yesterday,” Haley claimed. “It’s like the antibiotics have finally taken over. I might even get dressed in some regular clothes before the day’s over.” She looked down at the satin pajamas and house robe Amanda bought yesterday. “Imagine that!”
Amanda hoped her smile appeared more genuine and interested than it felt. She’d worried all weekend about telling Haley the sordid Mason saga. Amanda hadn’t wanted to upset Haley when she was so ill. Now that her friend was better, she knew the inevitable must happen. It wasn’t honest or fair to leave Haley believing Mason was her man when he was anything but.
He hadn’t been in church this morning. Several people were whispering about his taking an unexpected leave of absence—a month—from his ministerial position. He had supposedly gone to Launceston, where his parents lived. Amanda didn’t need anyone to piece together the clues for her. She knew his leaving town was directly related to her rejection.
Sighing, she observed Haley. While her hair was a bit frizzed and her eyes still somewhat hollow, her cheeks were beginning to show some signs of color, even without makeup. Amanda placed her barely eaten burger in its wrapper, tucked the paper around it, and placed it on the table.
“Did you get to talk to Mason today?” Haley set the remainder of her burger on its wrapper, as well. “You did give him my note Friday night, didn’t you?” she asked, her brow wrinkled.
Haley’s question nearly made Amanda choke on nothi
ng. Her friend had felt so bad yesterday, Amanda had been relieved of the necessity of such a question. She stared toward Mount Wellington and prayed the Lord would give her some scrap of wisdom He’d never imparted before. This morning during the service’s prayer time, Amanda had reminded the Lord of her pledge to not play matchmaker again unless it was absolutely necessary. Amanda wished she’d stated that prayer last winter.
“I, uh . . .” Amanda cleared her throat, plopped her burger box on the wicker table, and reached for her bottle of mineral water. She downed a swallow of the chilled liquid and waited for it to hit her stomach. “Haley,” she said and gripped the water bottle, “Mason wasn’t at church today. He—he’s taken a one-month leave of absence.”
“At Christmastime?” she asked, her eyes widening. “What about the Christmas cantata?”
“Haley . . .” Amanda shook her head back and forth and gurgled out something that sounded like a drowning frog.
“But he didn’t even call me to tell me he was leaving,” Haley whimpered. She laid her burger on the table and pulled one of the plaid pillows to her midsection.
Amanda gulped another swallow of water, set the bottle near her burger, and moved to Haley’s side. She held her hands, peered into her disillusioned eyes, and then didn’t have the fortitude to do anything but look down. The emotions that brought tears Friday night and last night assaulted Amanda anew.
“There’s been a dreadful mistake,” she breathed as warm rivulets trickled along her nose.
Haley’s fingers flexed against Amanda’s.
“Mason wasn’t—the flowers, they weren’t—there’s been a terrible—terrible—” her voice caught—“m-misunderstanding.” A tear splashed onto their entwined fingers. Amanda sniffled and swiped at her cheeks.
“You mean he wasn’t . . . with me?” Haley whispered.
Amanda looked up and shook her head. “Oh Haley, things are so botched up. He thought I was the one!”
“You?” Haley gasped, the trace of color in her cheeks draining to nothing.
Amanda sniffed through a nod.
“But the flowers . . .”
“He sent them to the travel agency. They didn’t have my name on them, so I thought they were for you. But they were really for . . .” Amanda covered her face with her hands and coughed through another surge of torment.
“Poor Haley,” she cried, “poor, poor Haley. I feel as if I’ve betrayed the sweetest soul in the world. You feed injured wallabies and volunteer at the children’s home! I don’t know how this ever happened to somebody so wonderful, but it’s absolutely dreadful!”
Haley wrapped her arms around Amanda and buried her head against her neck. Her silent shaking indicated the measure of her own turmoil.
Amanda gently nudged at Haley’s arms so she could embrace her. “It’s okay, Haley. Please don’t cry like this,” she encouraged. “You’re going to be okay, I promise,” Amanda assured, and admonished herself to control her emotions. She had to be strong for Haley.
A fit of bark-coughing attacked Haley, and she jerked away to finish the fit. “I don’t need to let myself get this upset,” she wheezed. “I’m still too congested to be crying so much. It’s just that—I really h-h-had begun to care for him!” Haley covered her face and hunched forward.
Amanda reached for the tissue box on the edge of the coffee table, pulled out a wad, and shoved them into Haley’s hands. Then she extracted her own wad and mopped at her face. Now that the telling was complete and the emotions were spent, Amanda experienced an odd release, a peculiar freedom. And she knew she must remain steady.
“No w-w-wonder he hasn’t called me! He hasn’t even thought of me!” Haley lifted her face and shook her head. “But what about the portrait? He wanted to show it to his mother and sister. He did!” She nodded like a tot and pressed her index finger against her chest. “I heard him say it.”
“He said he wanted it because . . .” Amanda looked toward the potted fern hanging in the corner, but the plant offered about as much inspiration as her water bottle might.
“Because you painted it,” Haley slowly stated. “Yes, that was it. Wasn’t it?”
Amanda fumbled with the hem of her knee-length skirt, turned to her friend, and simply nodded.
Haley slumped against the love seat, and the wicker fibers creaked with her movement. “Oh no!” she shrieked and sat up straight. “Please tell me you didn’t give him my note!”
“I didn’t!” Amanda affirmed. “I never had the chance.”
“Thank God!” Haley flopped backward again and stared out the window.
Amanda reached for her water bottle, unscrewed the lid, and gulped a generous portion while Haley continued her blank staring. Unless Haley pressed for more details, Amanda decided not tell her about Mason’s proposal or the resulting upheaval.
She toyed with the bottle’s plastic cap and relived that revolting episode all over again. When she got to the part where Nate stepped into the picture, Amanda told herself to think about something else. She continued thinking about Nate anyway, and especially dwelled upon his mystery woman.
She must be Janet French, Amanda thought and hoped the lady appreciated the quality of man she was getting. Nate had never bought Amanda a baby grand piano. If he had, she might have practiced more. If this woman was Janet, Amanda hoped she knew she was costing her one of her best friends. She pressed the bottle cap between her index finger and thumb.
Nate had been right. He really was a man. Every time Amanda thought of him now, she pondered how much this mystery woman must appreciate his masculinity. She was certain his wife-to-be would find his quick mind fascinating, his sense of humor refreshing—even though he did sometimes laugh at the wrong times.
After a season of stewing over pianos and other women, Amanda decided to put the whole ordeal out of her mind. She shifted in the love seat and observed Haley.
Still trapped in her silent staring, Haley mumbled, “Poor Roger.”
Roger? Amanda thought. Who can think of Roger at a time like this? Then she began a mental inventory of the single men whom even God would agree would be an absolutely perfect match for Haley. The last thing Haley needed was to revert back to Roger Miller. He absolutely was not good enough for Haley—not even a little bit!
Nineteen
By mid-January, Haley had fully recuperated from the upper respiratory infection, which lingered for three weeks. Even though she still pondered Mason on occasion, she had to some degree also overcome the mortification of that entire episode. Today’s shopping trip was part of her recovery from the whole scenario. Nothing lifted the spirits like finding a good bargain.
She’d walked to the shopping center down the street from the travel agency, eaten a quick lunch at Frank’s Fish ’n’ Chips, and now she had a full hour to search for deals. When Haley shopped with Amanda, she didn’t get to focus solely on the mark-down racks. While Amanda was all for seasonal sales, she never liked to investigate the back-of-the-store bargains. Amanda believed the whole process was a waste of time. She preferred to just buy what she needed rather than sift through the “tired leftovers.” But Haley had found many “gold nuggets” others had overlooked.
As she stepped into the women’s clothing store aptly named Delightful, Haley considered herself a prospector looking for fashionable treasures. The store’s cool interior offered a reprieve from the summer heat. Today had spanned into the mid-eighties, which was warm enough to make more than a few Tassies sweat.
Enjoying the smells of new carpet and the latest clothing, Haley dabbed at the perspiration along her hairline as she passed a mirror. She gleaned a glimpse of herself in the cream-colored dress Amanda surprised her with last week. The color brought out the highlights in her hair and the peachy undertones in her skin. Inwardly, Haley smiled.
Even though she believed Amanda wrong in her take on the bargain rack, Amanda was so right about so much—including Haley’s need for a new wardrobe and makeover. Haley had never felt more co
nfident, and she enjoyed the passing glances of men who noticed. Of course, as petite as Haley was, she knew she’d never be able to touch Amanda’s stunning effect with her willowy height and fiery hair. Nevertheless, Haley felt better about herself than ever, despite Mason’s rejection.
While she had spent a week crying herself to sleep, Haley had finally come to the conclusion that she and Mason just were not meant to be. This realization brought a sense of peace upon Haley’s wounded heart that she attributed to God himself. Still, she longed to say she belonged to someone and to be part of a family that also belonged to her.
At last Haley spotted the sign that she knew so well: Clearance. 75% Off.
When the frigid salesclerk asked if Haley needed assistance, she called, “Just looking,” and zoomed toward that sign like a pilot landing a plane. She attacked the racks of clothing with a hard eye and a certainty that she would not leave empty-handed.
Forty-five minutes later Haley walked toward the store’s exit, weighted with a bag full of goodies she suspected even Amanda would swoon over. Amanda’s just wrong about the bargain scene. That’s all there is to it, she smugly thought.
Of course, she thought, Amanda was also wrong about Mason. And while Haley seldom mentioned Roger around Amanda, she’d begun to wonder if Amanda also misjudged the Roger business. Haley had deeply cared for him, and there was no doubt his love ran just as deep. While Amanda insisted Haley would feel trapped on a dairy farm, Haley had thought she might enjoy the experience, especially since Roger’s extended family lived within sight of each other. Haley had hungered for the comfort of being in a family for so long; that element alone had nearly been enough to make her accept Roger.
But that chance is gone, she thought and tried to prevent herself from sinking back into the grips of despair where Mason’s rejection had thrown her.
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