The Power of Love

by Margaret Daley

  The service flew by. She started singing her first song, and before she realized it, she sang her last note. Listening to Gabriel’s solo performance had moved her beyond words. She had heard some of it in practice Wednesday night, but for some reason after Reverend Carson’s stirring sermon on God’s forgiveness, Gabriel’s tribute had touched something deep inside her. She remembered their conversation earlier in the week about George McCall and wondered if it had struck Gabriel as deeply as her.

  As the congregation filed out of the sanctuary, Rebecca hung back. When only a couple of women were left, she sat in the pew and savored the quiet serenity. She felt at peace—as though God had reached down and blessed her. Could it be possible that there was a reason for all that had happened the past few years? That He hadn’t forsaken her and her family?

  Slowly she rose and walked from the church, reluctant to leave. In the foyer she noticed some people milling about, but most were making their way to their Sunday school classes. She hurried to get Josh.

  At the nursery she stopped in the doorway and watched Mabel cuddling her son in the crook of her arm while she read a story to the other children who weren’t sleeping. Her animated voice surprised Rebecca. Mabel threw her whole self into the story, making it come alive for the children. Even Josh was listening and looking at Mabel. Quietly Rebecca backed out of the nursery, her assessment of Mabel changing.

  “See? Didn’t I tell you Mabel was good with the kids?” Gabriel whispered in her ear.

  Rebecca sucked in a deep breath. She felt his breath on her neck and shivered. She edged away from the nursery before replying, “You were right. I’ll stop worrying about Josh.”

  “No, you won’t, but then mothers are supposed to worry about their children.”

  “Not just mothers.”

  The mischievous gleam in Gabriel’s eyes dimmed. “No, fathers should, too. And most would.”

  Rebecca knew there were injustices in this world. Gabriel not being a father was one of them. “You can still be a father, Gabriel. You’re a young man,” she replied to comfort him, then blushed when she realized what she had said. “I mean—”

  He placed his finger over her mouth. “Shh. I know what you mean.”

  Do you really? she wanted to ask. There was a part of her that fancied rescuing Gabriel and another part that wanted to run as fast as she could away from him and what could be if circumstances were different in their lives. But circumstances weren’t different. He was still in love with his deceased wife, and she was scared to commit to another man.

  CHAPTER NINE

  A gentle breeze blew as Rebecca stepped onto the patio and breathed deeply of the flower-scented air. She threw her head back and relished the sun’s rays on her face. After several days of rain, she welcomed this perfect seventy-degree weather. A perfect Saturday. Staring at the cobalt blue sky, she noticed not one cloud.

  The sound of hammering lured her attention to the two guys in her backyard. They had been working diligently for the past few hours. Peter’s head was bent over a board, intense concentration on his face. Gabriel studied a sheet of paper, a frown marring his expression. They both wore cutoffs and white T-shirts with tool belts about their waists.

  “Ready for a break?” she called.

  Her son hit a nail one last time, then stood, the hammer dangling from the tool belt Gabriel had given him at the beginning of the doghouse project. “Mom! Come look at what Coach and me have done so far.”

  She made her way toward the pair. Her son looked like a small version of the guy who used to build and remodel homes on the public broadcast station. Gabriel rose, too. He looked like a larger version of the same guy. Like father, like son. The phrase popped into her head, and she stopped short. Were Peter and Josh replacing Gabriel’s deceased son? Were her two boys the reason he hung around so much? She shook the disturbing questions from her mind, determined not to let anything disrupt their evening.

  “It’s starting to look like a doghouse. I see three walls. Is that the roof over there?” She pointed to two pieces of plywood.

  “I’m going to ignore that teasing tone and take your words at face value. I never said I was a builder, carpenter or anything remotely in that industry, but Peter and I are two intelligent guys who can surely figure out these blueprints.” Gabriel held up the instructions he had purchased from the hardware store.

  “I have all the confidence in the world in you two. I fixed some lemonade, and Granny baked some chocolate chip cookies. Peter, you can go get some if you want.”

  “Oh, great,” Peter said, racing toward the back door, the hammer slapping against his side.

  “I guess we’re ready for a break since my helper has deserted me.”

  “Mention chocolate chip cookies and my son is a lost cause.”

  “This guy isn’t much different. Where are those cookies?”

  “Have a seat on the patio. I’ll bring you a plate, if there are any left, and some lemonade.”

  “You tell Peter if I don’t have my share of cookies there will be extra laps at practice.”

  Rebecca laughed as she went into the house. “I doubt that will make a bit of difference.”

  “That’s what I was afraid of.”

  In the kitchen Rebecca quickly retrieved two tall glasses from the cabinet and filled them with ice. She noticed her son had taken, by her estimate, at least six cookies and gone off by himself to enjoy them. Peter must be protecting his territory.

  After she placed the tray with the cookies and lemonades in the middle of the patio table, she sat across from Gabriel, who rested his head on the bright yellow cushion, his eyes closed, his legs spread as though he was exhausted.

  “Tired?” Rebecca took a sip of lemonade.

  He pried one eye open and said, “It’s hard work trying to maintain an image in front of an impressionable boy. I don’t want him to spread the word around town about how inept I am at putting together anything.”

  “You can always bribe him with your share of chocolate chip cookies.”

  Gabriel sat up, shaking his head. “Can’t do that. I guess I will just have to suffer the slings and arrows of my fellow townspeople.”

  “Have you had any success in getting Peter to play on the team?”

  Gabriel took a bite of cookie, leaving only half of it. “We’re gonna practice some later. He’s getting a lot better. When he feels comfortable enough, he’ll play. I’ve seen him study the batters. I think he wants to try but is afraid of making a fool of himself.”

  “Not too different from his coach.”

  “Hey, I take offense at that remark.” He popped the last half of the cookie into his mouth and washed it down with some lemonade. “I’m gonna have to tell Rose she has outdone herself with these cookies.”

  “She’ll love hearing that. Cooking is one of her favorite things. Actually I think that’s who I got my love of cooking from. My mother never enjoyed even the simplest task in the kitchen.”

  “Do you get to cook much?”

  “Are you kidding? Granny barely lets me into her private culinary retreat.”

  “You can always come over to my house and practice. Wouldn’t want you to lose your touch.”

  “And you’d get a home-cooked meal.”

  “Yep. Can’t blame a guy for trying any way he can.”

  “I might just take you up on that offer.”

  He leaned forward and snatched another cookie off the plate. “When?”

  Suddenly an underlying tension weaved its way into their exchange. “Well.” She fumbled in her mind for an answer. “I don’t know.”

  “We could call it a date.” He slanted a look at her that melted her insides.

  Thankfully she was sitting or she was afraid she would have collapsed. “A date?” She squeaked the words.

  “Yes. You know, where a man and a woman go out together to get to know each other.”

  “One of those,” she murmured. She hadn’t had a date in over twelve years.
She wasn’t sure how one was conducted anymore.

  “Of course, I know it’s a bit unorthodox to have your date cook dinner, but I’m sure it’s done in some circles.”

  “You don’t know?” she asked, purposefully putting a teasing note in her voice. She needed to lighten the mood quickly.

  “I haven’t dated in fourteen years.”

  “I haven’t in twelve. So we’ll be the blind leading the blind.”

  “Should be an interesting date.”

  “Okay, for argument’s sake, say I accept this date.”

  “There’s no argument here,” he said with a grin and a wink.

  She threw him a frown to quiet him. “If you’ll let me finish. What do you like to eat?”

  “Just about anything I don’t have to fix.”

  “So if I prepare liver and onions, you’ll be happy and eat every little bite?”

  “Just about anything except liver and onions. The onions I don’t mind, but the liver I can pass on.”

  “You know you really aren’t helping me. Let me rephrase the question. What is your favorite food?”

  He tapped his chin with his forefinger and looked skyward as though he were in deep thought. “Nothing beats a thick T-bone steak.”

  “Grilling is the man’s job.”

  “How about I grill the steaks and you fix everything else—whatever you want? Surprise me.”

  She narrowed her eyes, pretending to consider his proposition carefully. “This might be my time to get back at you for that challenge you won when we went fishing.”

  His grin widened. “I’m banking on your sweet nature and the fact I’m the town’s police chief.”

  Rebecca couldn’t resist the laughter bubbling inside her. Since meeting Gabriel, she had smiled and laughed more than she had in two years. “Okay, I guess you have me over a barrel.”

  “Now, that’s a sight I need to think on.”

  “What sight, Coach?” Peter pushed open the back door and came outside.

  Rebecca started brushing cookie crumbs off her son’s chest and face.

  “Ah, Mom.” Peter tried to step away.

  Rebecca grabbed his arm and held him still. “I don’t mind you eating the cookies, but I do mind you wearing them.”

  Peter stood next to her while she finished her task, but his arms and feet didn’t stop fidgeting.

  “How about me? Do I have any crumbs on my face?”

  The teasing tone in Gabriel’s voice made her blush. She shot him an exasperated look. “You have a smudge of chocolate right here.” She reached out and wiped some from the corner of his mouth with her finger.

  Gabriel blinked, surprised by her action. The teasing gleam faded from his gaze to be replaced with astonishment and something else Rebecca didn’t want to analyze.

  * * *

  “Coach, ready to go back to work?”

  Gabriel shook his head, trying to rid his mind of one recurring thought. Her touch was dynamite. Maybe he should eat another cookie and leave chocolate on his face.

  “Coach?” Peter waved his hand in front of Gabriel’s face.

  Gabriel blinked again. “Oh, sorry. Just thinking. Ready to work?”

  “If I’m not mistaken, Granny is expecting you to stay for dinner, unless you would rather eat alone at home,” Rebecca said while she gathered up the plate and glasses.

  “Nah. If you all insist, I’ll stay. It’s a dirty job, but someone has to do it.”

  “The way Josh eats, it certainly is a dirty job.” Rebecca headed for the back door.

  Gabriel watched her leave, a warmth mellowing him when he thought about their earlier bantering. He hadn’t done that in a long time. He had forgotten what it was like to flirt with a beautiful woman and for her to flirt back.

  “Hey, Coach, ready?”

  “Yes, Peter, I am.”

  He clasped the boy around his shoulders and walked with him to where the pieces of doghouse littered the yard. Spending the day with Peter confirmed how much he wished he were a father. He wished he were Peter and Josh’s father. That realization snatched his next breath, leaving him struggling for air. He had always been involved in children’s lives, but with these two boys he had taken it a step further. Was Rebecca the reason?

  “What should we do next, Coach?”

  Gabriel focused on what needed to be done. “Let’s get all the walls up, then take a look at that roof.”

  “When we’re finished, I want to paint the house.”

  “What color?” Gabriel cocked his head as though that would help him read the directions better.

  “I guess since Peepers is a girl, let’s paint it something girly. I can’t see pink, though. How about yellow?”

  “Sounds good to me.” Gabriel held the directions at arm’s length then brought them close. He knew they weren’t written in a foreign language, but it sure did seem like it when he was trying to figure out what they meant by place knob A into notch D. He wished he had paid more attention in shop.

  “You know, Coach, I’ve been thinking about Miss Bess and the people at the nursing home.”

  “That’s great.” Maybe if he held the directions upside down they would make sense.

  “I think the team should volunteer once a week to read to the old people there. What do you think?”

  “Old people?” Gabriel turned his attention to Peter.

  “Yeah, I was thinking we could each adopt a grandmother or grandfather and read to them or play a game with them. I thought I would adopt Miss Bess. She needs me. She reminds me of Granny, and Granny has us. Miss Bess needs us, too.”

  Gabriel’s throat thickened. A month before Peter had been angry at the world. Now he was starting to look at other people’s needs and problems and coming up with solutions that made a lot of sense. Gabriel had read somewhere that the more connections a person had, the longer the person would live.

  What would happen if suddenly he lost this family? That was a question he never wanted to discover the answer to. He realized he had come to depend on them to feel needed.

  Gabriel swallowed several times and said, “Sounds like a doable plan to me.”

  “Then you don’t mind if I say something to David and the others at practice on Monday?”

  “Go right ahead. I’ll let you organize it, and if you need anyone to help, ask for a volunteer.”

  “I think David will. I’ll call him tonight and ask him if he’s interested.”

  Gabriel wadded the directions into a ball and tossed them toward the trash pile. He could understand his brother-in-law’s frustration when he tried to put his niece’s dollhouse together last Christmas. Gabriel would never say another word to the man about how hard could it be to put a little old house together. Nope, not a word.

  “Tell you what, Peter, let’s take a break and practice some ball for a while. When we come back, we’ll put our two heads together and come up with a way to finish this doghouse.”

  “Are you sure?” Peter scanned the lumber scattered across the yard.

  “No, but don’t tell anyone I don’t have the foggiest idea what I’m doing when it comes to tools. However, I have faith we can manage something. Peepers will need a place to sleep. Rest assured, the Lord will provide a bed—” he glanced at the walls of the doghouse “—of sorts.”

  * * *

  “Do you need anything in here?” Rebecca asked Bess as they walked toward the drugstore on Main Street the following Saturday.

  “Some hair dye.”

  “Of course. How long has it been since you dyed your hair?”

  “Oh, ages. My dark hair is starting to show.”

  Rebecca held the door for Bess. “Dark hair? Isn’t that what you want?”

  Bess headed for the aisle where the dyes were and homed in on the silver. “I refuse to fight Mother Nature. Years ago when I noticed my hair turning gray, I decided to help it along. I dye it every few months to keep the nice silver look, but with everything happening lately I’ve not kept up.”<
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  Rebecca chuckled. The more she was around Bess, the more she liked the way the woman looked at life. She didn’t always make sense, but when she did, it was beautiful.

  “Ladies, what brings you out on a Saturday afternoon? I saw your car parked out front, Rebecca, and decided to check on my two favorite ladies.”

  “Why, Chief Stone, what a nice surprise.” Bess’s eyes twinkled, and her face wrinkled into a bright smile. “Peepers is enjoying her new house.”

  “Then it’s still standing?”

  “Why wouldn’t it be? You made it.”

  “Just checking.”

  Rebecca rolled her eyes. She had seen what Gabriel and her son had gone through. She wouldn’t disillusion Bess on Gabriel’s ability at carpentry. But the test would come when the first thunderstorm hit, which shouldn’t be too far in the future.

  Gabriel followed Bess to the cashier, and Rebecca followed Gabriel. He glanced at her and smiled as though he was giving her a private greeting. Rebecca felt the heat in her cheeks and was glad when Bess said something to distract him.

  “We were about to get something to drink at the café. Care to join us, Chief Stone?”

  “Only if you call me Gabriel, Bess.”

  “I like calling you Chief Stone.”

  He nodded. “Then by all means do.”

  They walked the few steps to the diner next door, and Gabriel held the door open while Rebecca and Bess entered. In the middle of the afternoon, the café was deserted except for one customer who was finishing his coffee and a piece of pie.

  Bess paused and watched the man slide the last bit of pie into his mouth. “That’s what I want. I love desserts. The more calories and fat there is, the better it is.” She sat in the nearest chair and waved for the waitress.

  “Young lady, I’ll have a large piece of pecan pie with vanilla ice cream on top. Now, no skimpy slice for me.” Bess wagged her finger at the waitress. “And I’ll have some hot tea, too, with a slice of lemon and honey.”