by Loree Lough
“Something else is wrong.”
She sat back, waiting for the truth, for the “this is going faster than I can handle” speech.
“There are no pretty lips pressed up against mine.”
A nice surprise. He was different, she had to give him that. But then, why wouldn’t he be, when he’d likely racked up more hours wooing women than she had entertaining kids with Mort! So no one was more surprised than Patrice when she said, “Are there supposed to be lips pressed to yours?”
“Definitely.”
So she obliged him, kissing him ever so softly at first. In no time, what she felt for him began to bubble up from her heart and through her lips, and she found herself telling him the truth about her feelings…with her kisses.
There was no turning back. Not even her strict self-disciplinary rules and good intentions could save her now, because she’d let herself fall in love—the feet-over-forehead kind of love—with him.
Would he break her heart?
Quite likely, considering his past.
But at the moment, Patrice was willing to risk it.
Would he come to the Lord if she set a good enough example?
Possibly.
But here and now—though she was ashamed to admit it—the state of Wade’s soul was the last thing on her mind.
Would he ever profess his undying love for her?
Well, miracles happened every day, didn’t they?
“Got any of that spaghetti left?” he asked, breaking the delicious connection.
Spaghetti! How like a man to be thinking of food at a time like this. “Yes” was her breathy answer. “There’s plenty of spaghetti left.”
He brushed the backs of his knuckles across her cheeks, and, staring deep into her eyes, said, “How would you feel if I invited myself over for supper?”
Good thing he was holding her so tightly, Patrice thought, or the headiness of his touch, his look, would send her floating off into space, maybe even tumbling onto the floor. It amazed her that she had the presence of mind to say, “Saves me the bother of inviting you.”
“So what time should I be there?”
Cuddled against his chest, she sighed dreamily. “Suppertime, of course.”
“You li’l nut.” Chuckling, he kissed the top of her head. “Is it any wonder I love you like I do?”
Every muscle tensed, every nerve end tingled. Holding her breath, Patrice waited, hoping he’d say it again. Praying the words hadn’t been part of her silly, schoolgirl wish.
If only it were a crush. She could easily get over a crush.
Lord, she prayed, eyes closed tight, if this is a dream, don’t let me wake up….
“Funny,” Wade said, breaking into her thoughts, “but I never figured you as rude.”
She sat back, looked into his face. Rude? It was the last thing she’d expected him to say. “What?”
He smiled in his easygoing, heart-stopping way and said, “When a man tells his woman he loves her, she’s supposed to say she loves him, too.”
Lucky for you he’s a cardiologist, she thought, grinning to herself. Her heart seemed swollen three times its normal size, and was beating three times faster than usual.
She felt playful, flirty—thrilling new emotions, feelings she had little to no experience with. Oh, go with the flow! she told herself. “But…what if the woman doesn’t love the man?”
For an instant, shock and pain glittered in his golden eyes, telling her he’d expected her to admit she loved him, proving he’d needed to hear it every bit as much as she had, and making her regret she’d made the ridiculous remark. “Oh, Wade, I’m sorry,” Patrice said, kissing his cheeks. “I didn’t mean it, honest. I was just teasing.” And throwing her arms around his neck, she added, “I do love you. I really do!”
Wade held her at arm’s length and studied her face. “Well, I don’t mind admitting, that’s a relief.” Then he added, “I have a confession to make.”
Nothing he could say now could possibly matter. “You’re married?” she teased.
He laughed. “’Course not.”
“Engaged?”
“Not anymore.”
That reminded her of the photograph. “What happened?”
He shrugged. “Lots of things.”
“Name a few.”
He squinted. “For starters, she met a guy willing to buy her a bigger ring.”
She’d suspected all along that horrible blonde had hurt him! “Oh, Wade,” Patrice said again, “I’m so sorry.”
“I’m not.”
From the look on his face, he’d meant it. “But you loved her, didn’t you?”
He shrugged. “Thought I did at the time, but I’m smarter now.”
“Smarter?”
“Whatever I felt for her, well…” He looked away for an instant. When his eyes met hers again, they glimmered with raw emotion. “Let’s just say it wasn’t love.” He hugged her closer still. “I know what it is now.”
Dare she hope? “‘It’ being love?”
He nodded. “You,” Wade began. “This is love.”
She said a quiet prayer of thanks, for the good news about Gus, for Wade’s profession of love. Snuggling against him, she sighed. “So what’s this confession you wanted to make?”
“I asked Gus for your hand in marriage.”
Startled, she sat up. “You what?”
He nodded. “It’s true. When he was in here earlier, I told him how I felt about you. I said if you’d have me…”
Tears filled her eyes and she swiped them away. “You’d what?”
“I’d be the proudest man born if you’d do me the honor of becoming my wife, that’s what.”
Biting her lip to still its trembling, she shook her head.
He frowned. “Is that a no?”
“Yes. I mean, no. I mean…” Laughing past her tears, Patrice hid behind her hands. “Oh, Wade, I just can’t believe this!”
“Why?” He forced her to come out of hiding, to meet his eyes. “Because I’m thirty-one and still single? Because people think of me as a playboy?”
“No, not because of you…” She turned slightly, so he couldn’t see her scar.
But it was as though he could read her mind, for he took her in his arms and kissed it, gently, tenderly. Lovingly. “I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again—you’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever set eyes on. That scar of yours doesn’t make a whit of difference to me, and I mean that.”
For a moment, she only stared into his eyes. Then, nodding, Patrice said, “I believe you.”
“It’s about time.”
She smiled happily. “So what did Gus say?”
“About what?”
“When you asked for my hand in marriage, silly!”
“Well, it wasn’t a simple yes or no answer.”
Patrice frowned.
“No, I’m afraid your father put some restrictions on me….”
“Restrictions?” Her frown intensified. “What kind of restrictions?”
“If I botch his surgery, the deal’s off.”
Reading the teasing glint in his eyes, she laughed. “Now who’s the nut?”
“Well,” Wade began, “I have to admit…I’m nuts about you.”
Patrice had never been happier in her life. She had a wonderful job, Gus was going to be all right, and Wade loved her. Wade loved her!
“So what do you say?”
“To what?”
Wade slapped a hand to his forehead. “Can I have cheese on my spaghetti tonight?” he joked.
“Well, if you want—”
He groaned. “I was kidding!” he interrupted. “What do you say to my proposal?”
Tilting her head, Patrice memorized every inch of his face, from the sparkling hazel eyes to the little-boy grin. “You call that a proposal?”
He stood, gently coaxed her into his chair, then got down on one knee. “Patrice,” he said, taking her hand in his, “will you marry me?”
“So is that a yes?”
“What do you think?” she blubbered.
“I think you’re hedging, so later when you come to your senses, you can back out on a technicality.”
What did he expect her to say to that? The truth, she decided, plain and simple: “Nothing I’ve ever done in my life made more sense.”
And nothing could have surprised her more than the tears that puddled in the corners of Wade’s eyes. “You’ve made me very happy, Patrice, and I swear to you, I’ll spend the rest of my life trying to make you happy, too.”
More unadorned truth: “I don’t doubt it for a minute,” she said, smiling.
Gus’s eyes fluttered open and he groaned quietly. “What’s a guy gotta do to get a drink of water around this place?” he complained good-naturedly.
Patrice, who had been dozing in the chair beside his bed, leaped to her feet and poured him a cup of water. “Hey, sleepyhead,” she said softly. “I was beginning to think you decided to go for a Guinness record.” Gently, she slid a plastic straw between his parched lips and watched as he sipped.
“So what’s the prognosis?” he croaked out.
Patrice hadn’t seen Wade in hours, not since he’d met her in the waiting room to tell her the operation had been a success. “A-okay,” she said, remembering how handsome and important he’d looked, dressed in his green scrubs. Grinning happily, she gave Gus the thumbs-up sign, then glanced at her watch. “Wade had another operation to perform after yours, but he said he’d be in to see you when it was over.”
“What time is it?”
“Nearly five.”
He licked his lips. “Good.” Then he said, “You think they’re gonna feed me?”
Shrugging, Patrice admitted, “I have no idea. Guess that depends on whether or not Wade gives you the green light to go home tonight or decides to keep you, for observation.”
Frowning, he grabbed the bed controls. “What does that mean, anyway?” he asked, raising the head of the bed. “What do these people observe, exactly?”
“Y’got me by the feet,” she said, laughing as she plumped his pillow. “You feeling okay?”
“Ask me in an hour, when the anesthesia is totally worn off,” he said, smirking.
She sat beside him again and took his hand. “I can’t tell you how relieved I am that things went well, Dad.”
“That makes two of us!”
“We have to do everything we can to make sure you stay healthy, because I honestly don’t know what I’d do without you.”
He met her eyes. “With a little luck and a whole lot of assistance from the Big Guy,” he began, looking at the ceiling, “you won’t find out for a couple of decades yet.”
She patted his hand. “At least.”
“I want to stick around long enough to roll a couple of grandkids around in my chair.”
Grandkids…
The comment made her smile. And as Gus nodded off again, Patrice contemplated her many blessings. Admittedly, the list was long, and growing by the day. “God’s been very good to us,” she whispered, tidying Gus’s covers.
Wade walked into the room just then. “You can’t give all the credit to God,” he said, laying Gus’s chart at the foot of the bed. “You deserve to take some of the credit for what’s good about your life, y’know.”
She wanted to scold him, to rattle off the many reasons he should be thanking God. But Patrice held her tongue. This was neither the time nor the place for a lecture on faith.
“And you deserve some credit for something else, too.”
“Like what?”
He scribbled something on Gus’s chart. “Like showing me that God does answer prayers.” He tucked his ballpoint into his jacket pocket. “I’d almost forgotten the lesson Adam’s mother told me, years ago.”
“Yoke ye not to unbelievers,” the Bible said. Happy as she was that Wade had professed his love for her, Patrice couldn’t help but wonder if this conversation had been an answer to her prayer last night, asking for God’s guidance, asking Him to show her a sign if He wanted her to spend a lifetime married to Wade. “And what lesson was that?”
“‘Ask and ye shall receive.”’
Patrice didn’t have to ask what he’d prayed for; his loving smile made it clear: he’d prayed to win her heart!
Gus stirred, grunting slightly. “What’s a guy gotta do to get a bite to eat around this place?”
“‘Ask and ye shall receive,”’ Wade said again, grinning.
Epilogue
Wade stood at the front of the church, tugging nervously at his cummerbund.
“Stand still,” Adam said from the corner of his mouth. “You’re fidgeting worse than your nephew.” He looked out into the congregation and saw Frank Jr. sitting there in the front row like a proper little gentleman. He winked at the boy and admitted that Adam was right. He was fidgeting an awful lot. And as if to prove his inability to stand still, he ran a finger under the starched white collar of his tuxedo shirt.
“May as well relax, pal,” Adam added. “These things never get started on time.”
Tucking in one corner of his mouth, Wade wished Adam would dispense with the brotherly advice; rather than calming him down, it was having the exact opposite effect.
“Think of something pleasant,” Adam said as if on cue. “Like, the reason you asked Patrice to marry you in the first place. I remember that helped time pass faster for me.”
At last. Some advice he could sink his teeth into!
Wade took a deep breath, then stared at the gleaming toes of his black rental shoes. He’d asked Patrice to marry him because he loved her. But it was more than that. Much more. She’d given his life purpose, stability. He had an incentive to get up in the morning, now—one not motivated by obligations to his patients, but propelled solely by how she claimed his presence had improved her world. Quite a chest-puffing notion, knowing a woman like that respected and admired him that much!
Quite a responsibility, too. Precisely why he’d started viewing just about everything in life with different eyes. She’d made him feel like a man, a real man, for the first time in his life. So was it any wonder he felt obligated to start acting like one?
When he’d told her about his part in the train accident, she’d said he’d punished himself long enough. She’d taken his hand in hers and prayed aloud that he’d come to believe that God had forgiven him. Wade believed that now, and finally, he knew real, blessed peace.
The organ music suddenly grew louder, its notes bouncing from every door and window, from every wall and pew in the tiny old-fashioned church. The powerful chords seemed to seep through the soles of his shoes to the marrow of his bones, reverberating in his hard-beating heart. He knew from having attended the weddings of relatives and friends that the music was a signal.
The bride would soon appear.
He looked up, saw the faint outline of her, standing proudly in the shadows beside her tuxedoed, wheelchair-bound father.
She was everything to him. The girl of his dreams. His wife to be. The woman who had completed his life. Patrice Cameron. It had a nice ring to it, and Wade knew who he had to thank for making it all possible.
As “The Wedding March” began, he watched her stand a little taller, throw her shoulders back, take a deep breath.
Patrice had been determined to have a small, intimate wedding, with only their closest friends and loved ones present. Wade had a feeling his whole life would be that way—intimate and loving—thanks to Patrice.
When she took that first step toward him from out of the shadows, Wade remembered what his mother had told Adam so many years ago, and he murmured the line to himself now: When things look darkest, God’s word brings me light, and I feel like I’m stepping out of the shadows. It’s what Patrice had done for him, by inspiring him to meet God and believe in the power of faith, as one reborn. If it hadn’t been for her, he wouldn’t have a growing relationship with th
e Lord now. And he wouldn’t have had the courage to work through his fears and doubts about his ability to be a good husband. Turns out he was nothing like his father, after all.
A bold ray of sunshine slanted down from the skylight and he watched, openmouthed, as Patrice stepped into it. She’d made no attempt to hide her scar, he noticed. “Out of the shadows,” he whispered.
“What’s that, buddy?” Adam whispered.
“Nothing,” Wade answered as she took her place beside him.
And looking into her beautiful smiling face, he added, “‘Ask and ye shall receive.”’
ISBN: 978-1-4592-1136-0
OUT OF THE SHADOWS
Copyright © 2002 by Loree Lough
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