by Dora Hiers
****
“What is this?”
Trace smiled at the awe in Bristol’s voice and the surprise lighting her face. “I promised you dinner.”
“This isn’t dinner. This is a show.”
“Special evening for a special woman, remember?” He took her by the hand and led her up the steps to his back deck.
He pulled out her chair and waited for her to sit.
She gazed up at him. If he didn’t know better, he’d suspect that was fear on her face. But why? “This is…perfect.”
His lips grazed her forehead then he snapped out the cloth napkin and set it over her lap. “You’ve worked so hard lately. Now that the Career Fair is over, you can afford to relax for a few hours.”
“This is called pampering. Better than any spa day.”
“Good.” Smiling, he sat down across from her.
A vase of red roses perched on the edge of the table, not blocking their view of each other. Flames from an assortment of different sized chunky candles flickered around them. Party lights dangled from the ceiling, providing the right amount of ambiance.
“While we were dismantling the gymnasium, Trip put everything together for me. The kid did a great job, didn’t he? Even covered the plates with pot lids to keep the food warm.”
“He’s not so much a kid anymore, Trace.” Her smile was as gentle as her voice.
“Yeah.” A bout of sadness speared him.
She spoke the truth. In a few short years, his son would head off to college. Or, if Trace was lucky, Trip would choose a career with Tomlinson Investment Properties. Either way, his son would start his life on his own terms, making choices that Trace could only accept, not control. That was the way of life.
Bristol’s hand covered his on the table.
He could allow the sadness to overwhelm him and ruin the evening. Or he could embrace the future. Especially if Bristol was in it with him.
Twining their fingers, he smiled. “Pray with me?”
She nodded.
“Father, You are amazing. You are mighty and powerful, and we give You all the credit for what You accomplished today. Not just for the success of the Career Fair but also for the young lives that will be forever changed because of this kind and beautiful woman in front of me. Like my son’s.” His voice caught, and he paused at Bristol’s sniffle, giving her fingers a gentle squeeze. “Thank You for bringing us together and for giving us another chance. Help us to truly love others by loving You first and best. Please bless our time together, our food and our companionship. May we always honor You in our thoughts and our actions. Amen.”
He let go of her hand and lifted his head.
Tears glittered on her lashes. “That was so sweet, Trace.”
“Yeah, well, that’s the Lord’s doing.”
“I can see that. You’ve really changed.”
“Just you wait, sweetheart. Just you wait.”
****
A door closed, and flip flops slapped the wood planked deck. Trace strode across the lawn, heading toward the fire pit, a throw tucked under one arm and a bag of goodies in the other.
“Just like I said. Better than any spa day.” Better than any day ever.
Trace held out the throw. Shadows from the fire flickered across his face. “I’m warning you, woman. If you get any comfier, I’m not waking you up for school tomorrow. You’ll just have to call in sick.”
With a contented sigh, she took the blanket from him and adjusted it over her bare legs. Sometimes the mountains could get cold in July, and she loved the extra warmth of the fire and the blanket. But even more, she loved the man for all the thought that went into this night.
Mercy. But not only tonight. He was always doing thoughtful gestures. Bringing her favorite croissant. Fixing her kitchen faucet. Replacing a stinky toilet. Laboring over the model school. And that was only recently. Throughout their previous relationship, he’d done hundreds of little and not-so-little things for her.
The truth sprouted and blossomed. She hadn’t realized it before now, and maybe he still didn’t. But Trace showed his love by doing for others.
Wonder and awe exploded in her chest. Her voice came out soft and mushy. “I just might do that.” If only to ponder and revel in such a glorious truth.
He unloaded the sack, setting a bag of marshmallows, a box of graham crackers and a chocolate bar on the table next to her Adirondack chair.
Bristol mashed a fat marshmallow on the end of the stick and held it over the flames.
Trace scooted his chair closer to hers, plunked down in it, and reached for her free hand.
“Aren’t you going to make one?”
“Not yet. I’m going to enjoy watching you.”
She laughed. “That’s not right.”
“In my eyes, there’s nothing more right.” A smile curved his lips and lines etched out from his eyes, belying his serious expression.
Maybe he did realize it.
“Do you like your marshmallows burned or slightly toasted?” he asked.
“Huh?”
He lifted her stick from the fire. “This one’s charred on the outside. If you don’t like it, I’ll take it.”
“Oh.” Carefully, she blew out the flame and handed him the stick. Then just about melted into a puddle when he slid off the charred treat, popped the gooey mess into his mouth, and licked his fingers.
“Mmm. Just the way I like them.” He handed the twig back to her.
She blinked and swallowed before smashing another marshmallow over the tip of her pole, quite sure this one would turn out the same way if she looked at him again. She held the end over the flame, fixing her gaze on the fire.
“Mannix and Rowan are getting remarried.”
“Aww. Really? I’m so happy for them.”
“Yeah. Me, too. They were meant to be together. It just took them both a few years apart to realize it.”
She jerked her head sideways to find him staring at her intently. Was he trying to impart some hidden message? Because if so, it was wasted on her. Even before their breakup, she knew she loved Trace.
“He asked me to be his best man, and I’m sure there will be a thousand details to attend to before and after the ceremony. That makes me feel rather selfish to ask you this, sweetheart, but I’d love for you to come.”
Was he asking her—
“As my date.” He reached over and lifted her stick from the fire again, smiling. “Looks like another marshmallow for me.”
Oh! Quickly, she blew out the flame and handed over the rod again, her heart doing somersaults, goosebumps spiking along her arms.
After swallowing the treat, he held out the pole. The hard ridges of his face were soft, his mouth a gentle curve but not really a smile. His gaze didn’t waver. His voice came out earnest, hopeful even. “Want to try one more time?”
Her pulse stalled and stuttered in tune with the shadows of the flames dancing across his face. Her lungs refused to function. Try one more time? Was he talking about the marshmallow or—
He reached out and skimmed his knuckles across her cheek, his gaze sliding south to her lips. “You never did answer me, sweetheart, not officially. Will you give us another chance? Let me show you that I’m a different man than I was two years ago. That I’m finally willing and able to commit to a long-term relationship.”
Indecision skittered through her chased hard by fear. Being willing and able to commit didn’t necessarily equate to marriage or a future with her. He’d never actually said those important three little words, never mentioned marriage. What if he broke her heart again?
Suddenly, fatigue drained her, leaving her empty, her brain a mass of unanswered questions.
She planted her palms against the wide arms of the Adirondack chair and launched to her feet, tossing the blanket over the back of the seat. “I’m sorry. It’s late, and I am exhausted. Would you mind if we talked about this later?”
He stood, sadness etching his eyes and mouth. He nod
ded, a giant lump crawling down his throat. “Sure. Take all the time you need, sweetheart. I’m not going anywhere. I’ll be here when you’re ready.”
16
“That was a beautiful wedding.” Trip plunked down in the chair next to him and stretched out his legs, swishing his bare feet through the shallow water. As soon as they’d gotten back home, he’d shucked the dark gray suit and put on shorts and a T-shirt.
Trace should’ve done the same. Instead, he’d discarded the dress shoes on his way to the back of the house and ended up wandering out here to the lake. His slacks were rolled up to his knees.
“It was perfect.” Much like how he pictured his own wedding. If Bristol could ever find it in her heart to forgive him.
“Uncle Mannix and Aunt Rowan seem really happy this time.”
“They were happy the last time. They just needed time to figure things out.”
“Like you and Ms. Owens?”
“Maybe.” Hopefully? Would Bristol give him a second chance?
“I thought you might’ve asked Ms. Owens to be your date for the wedding.”
“I did.”
Trip sucked in a breath. His head jerked toward Trace, lines carving deep furrows in his forehead. “She said no? After all you did for her?”
“Son, first rule of dating. Never attempt to coerce a woman into accepting your invitation because you feel entitled for whatever reason. I chose to help her, and she shouldn’t feel obligated because of my choice.”
Huh. Wasn’t that exactly what he’d done with Kendra? Expected her to accept his proposal even though it wasn’t what she wanted? His shoulders deflated even more. Father, forgive my hypocrisy.
Trip appeared to think about that for a few seconds before nodding.
“She never gave me an answer one way or the other. Just that we’d talk about it later. Later didn’t happen in time for the wedding. That’s all.” Was it, though? Would there ever be a later? Or was that just her way of breaking things off with him?
“I’m sorry, Dad.”
“Yeah. Me too. I’d hoped…”
“To get back together?”
“More than that.” Trace swished his foot through the water, letting the soothing sound and sensation wash over him as he gazed out at the silvery ridges on the surface of the lake. The words struggled to make it past the heavy emotion clumping in his throat. “I want it all. Marriage. More children. Grandchildren. Forever.”
“Oh. Wow.” Trip stared at him for several beats before following his gaze. “That sucks.”
Yeah. The stop sign from heaven had seemed to come from nowhere, literally ripping the wind from his sails. But Trace trusted his heavenly Father. Knew that He loved Trace with an everlasting and mighty powerful love. As a father himself, he knew that a no was meant for his good. “It will all work out the way it should.”
“But what if she never—”
“Then it wasn’t meant to be.”
“But—”
“Just like with you and Kiwi. If you two are meant to be together, it’ll happen.”
Trip groaned. “That’s not looking very promising, either.”
His gaze shot sideways. With the help of the moonlight glinting off the lake, he made out the misery crinkling Trip’s face. The two teenagers had been inseparable since Trip had moved in with him, but Trace hadn’t realized the depth of his son’s feelings. What a terrible father he was! “I thought I was sure at your age, son, and look how wrong I turned out to be. Can you imagine your mother and I married?”
A long sigh escaped his son’s chest before he shook his head. “But from as far back as I can remember, you’ve always told me that every person is different and not to compare. Just because you were wrong about Mom doesn’t mean I’m wrong about Kiwi.”
“That’s true. But you are still developing into your own person, discovering who you are meant to be. Same as Kiwi.”
“Dad, at the risk of sounding superior, that happens in childhood.”
He smiled at his son’s condescending tone. He’d been there. Even remembered having a similar conversation with Gramps. “Maybe physically. But I’m talking more about the emotional and spiritual realm. You haven’t experienced much in life yet, Trip.”
“I know what—who—I want to spend the rest of my life with.”
“I get that.” He mulled over how to respond, wishing Bristol were here to help navigate these troubled waters. She had such a calming way about her. He took a deep breath to bolster his courage and dived in. “What if your mother had agreed to marry me?”
“You would’ve made the best of your marriage.”
“That’s right.” And he would’ve. Once he committed, he would be all in until death parted them. He was glad that his son understood that about him. “But I think eventually your mother would’ve resented me.” And that might’ve even trickled down to Trip.
The teenager nodded, acceptance sliding over his expression. “Probably right about that.”
“And what about Uncle Mannix and Aunt Rowan? They married young and even though Uncle Mannix loved her, he still needed time to process the deaths of our parents and sister. Mannix wasn’t emotionally ready for marriage back then. Same for me. I wasn’t ready for marriage right out of high school. It takes a few more years to become, well, you.”
“And you’re ready now?”
With a heavy sigh, he gazed out at the water again. “It took me thirty-four years to come to this place. Yes. I am ready.” More than ready. He’d never been more sure of anything in his life. But was he too late?
****
“Jason’s planning to…have to do something. His parents…”
“What? Sorry, Trip. I can’t hear you with all these nail guns popping. Hang on. Let me walk outside.” Trace squeezed through the opening that would eventually become the front door and strode to the street. With the windows up in the truck, he would be able to hear Trip. And find out why his son was calling from school, something that could earn him detention.
After climbing inside and cranking the engine, he adjusted the air conditioning vents to blow on his face. The late afternoon sun had cranked the temperature up to near eighty-five degrees, brutal considering their normal moderate climate. “Sorry, Trip. What were you saying?”
A heavy sigh came through the phone. “Jason’s family is moving to Florida.”
Trace scrubbed a hand across his beard, grimacing at the amount of sawdust that sprinkled his pants. “That’s good, right? Wasn’t Jason’s dad trying to find a new job?”
“No. It’s not good. Jason says he’s not moving.”
Of course, the kid didn’t want to move. He got it. Jason had grown up in Moondust Cove. His life revolved around a small core of kids, his son included, from elementary school all the way to high school. “Well, if his family—”
“No. You don’t understand, Dad. Jason’s planning to run away.”
“Run away? Where?”
“He didn’t say. I’m not sure he knows. I just took him to see Ms. Owens.”
“That was the right thing to do, son. Ms. Owens can—”
“I’m worried, Dad.”
“Of course. He’s your best—”
“Dad, he even mentioned suicide.”
Trace’s blood chilled. “Suicide?”
“Yeah. You should see him now, Dad. You wouldn’t recognize him. He hasn’t slept or eaten in days. We have to do something.”
“What would you like to do?”
“Can he stay with us for a while? Even if it’s just until he gets used to the idea of moving to Florida. Or until they can find a relative or family here that will let him live with them until graduation.”
He could see where this was going, but how could he refuse? Jason was like another son to him. “I’ll come talk to Ms. Owens.”
“Now? Please?”
He glanced at the skeletal frame of the house. They were already running behind schedule because of a long bout with rain early on, and
then this morning two guys called out sick. At this rate, they’d miss their inspection dates. Then he’d have to push back all the subs. Every day cost the company money. And if they missed the projected closing date, they would have unhappy customers.
Gramps would be transferring him back to Vacation Rentals if he didn’t get this project and two others back on track.
But his son came before work. Always.
He tamped down the sigh and set the truck in gear. “On my way.”
****
“Are you sure you’re okay with this?” Bristol eyed the foursome crowded into her office. Her gaze tracked to Trace and stayed there.
Three other sets of eyes swiveled to the man who had knocked on her door shortly after the Nickersons arrived and insisted on joining the conversation.
Highly irregular, but since their kids were best friends, Jason’s parents had agreed. Trace had just tossed a lifeline to Jason and handed the kid’s parents a way to salvage their relationship with their son. But did he realize the monumental significance of what he was offering?
The hard angles on Trace’s face softened as he regarded the only teen in the room. “Jason is as close as a brother to Trip. For however long he needs a home, we are willing to give him one. And you have my word that I will treat him just like my own son.”
Jason moaned, a loud wail of relief and joy. The boy buried his face in his hands, literally wilting into the chair. Gratitude replaced the anxiety in the expression of both parents.
Mr. Nickerson stood while his wife reached over to hug their son. “Thank you, Trace. You don’t know how much this means to us. And, of course, we’ll pay whatever you decide it’s worth to let him stay with you. You know how much teenage boys can eat.”
“You guys have enough on your plate right now with a move and a new job. Don’t worry about the rest.” Trace reached over and squeezed Jason’s shoulder. “We’ll take good care of your boy.”
Bristol’s heart pinched. She knew exactly what he was offering. Not just a home but also peace and security. A fighting chance at success for the rest of his high school years. And as desperate as Jason looked and sounded just a few minutes ago, maybe even his life.