The Family Man

by Irene Hannon

  “I’ll see you at work.”

  “Right.”

  As Bryan turned and walked down the hall, trying to rein in his galloping pulse, he heard her door shut with a soft click behind him. Equal parts regret and relief washed over him. In another few seconds, he’d have claimed her sweet lips. And moved them into brand-new territory that was fraught with danger and uncertainties. Maybe they were destined to go there. More and more, he was beginning to think they were. But he wasn’t sure this was the time. Not yet.

  As he rode down in the silent elevator and exited into the cool night, he glanced up at the stars. In recent weeks, since he’d resumed weekly church attendance and started listening—really listening—to the minister’s words, he’d begun to find his way back to God, to let go of the anger in his heart for the losses he’d sustained and open it to the healing love of the Lord. And he’d been inspired by Amy’s faith, which had remained staunch even in the face of all that had beset the Hamilton family.

  His once-strong faith still needed bolstering, however. And his prayer life hadn’t returned to the conversational level he’d enjoyed years before. He was trying, though. Especially when he needed guidance. And there was no question that tonight fell into that category. So as he walked to his car in the dark parking lot, he sent a silent prayer heavenward.

  Lord, please guide me as I try to discern the path You desire for me. Give me the wisdom to know Your will and the courage to follow it. Forgive me for all the bitterness and anger I’ve held in my heart. Help me to let it go once and for all. Because I know now that until I do, I’ll never be able to claim the future You desire for me. And help me make peace with the past that Amy and I share, and to trust that as I travel the road ahead, You will be beside me. Wherever it may lead.

  Chapter Eleven

  “Hey, Dad, do you think Amy will be here today?” Dylan scanned the perimeter of the lake in Sugar Tree Park as he spoke.

  Setting the boat on the placid water, Bryan handed his son the remote control. “I don’t know, champ. She’s a busy lady.”

  “I saw her at church this morning. I waved at her, but she didn’t wave back. Maybe she doesn’t like me anymore.” Dylan hung his head and scuffed the toe of his shoe in the damp earth.

  With a pang, Bryan dropped down onto the balls of his feet and placed a hand on the little boy’s shoulder. “Of course she likes you. She told me that herself. But her dad is pretty sick, so she has a lot on her mind. When people are worried, or when they’re sad, sometimes they don’t notice things. I’m sure she didn’t even see you waving at her.”

  “You think so?”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “I like her a lot, Dad.”

  “I know.”

  “Do you like her, too?”

  With his son’s frank, guileless green eyes staring straight into his just inches away, it was hard to be anything but honest. “Yeah. I like her.”

  “A lot?”

  Deciding that evasive maneuvers were called for, Bryan tried a non-answer. “She’s a nice lady.” Then he changed the subject, hoping to distract his son. “Let’s see if you remember how to work those controls.”

  The tactic didn’t work.

  “Remember that day she came to my school and that man took pictures? She told me she liked kids, but that she didn’t have any of her own. Did you know that?”

  “Yes. She’s not married, Dylan. Only people who have been married have children.” Or should have, he modified in silence.

  “You mean she’s all by herself?”

  Thinking back two nights, when he’d driven her home and realized that she was far more alone than he’d ever imagined, he wasn’t quite sure how to answer Dylan’s question. “Well, she has a mom and dad and brothers and sisters.”

  “Do they all live together? Like me and you and Grandpa?”

  “No. Amy lives in a condo.”

  “And nobody lives there with her?”

  “No.”

  “I bet she’s lonesome.”

  Bryan was beginning to suspect the same thing. But his spoken words were different. “She’s very busy with her job, Dylan. She doesn’t have time to get lonesome.”

  “But what about at night?” His son was nothing if not persistent. “Like when you come home from work. There’s me and Grandpa to keep you company, and we all eat dinner together. Who does Amy eat with?”

  Good question. No one, most likely. And Bryan knew firsthand that eating solitary meals was one of the loneliest activities in the world. Food was meant to be shared over laughter and love and conversation. That’s how it had been for him growing up, and during his marriage. He couldn’t imagine choosing to live any other way.

  Yet that seemed to be Amy’s lifestyle. Whether by choice or circumstance, he wasn’t quite sure anymore. When he’d first arrived back in town, he’d assumed she was single because she hadn’t had time for romance and love, that work was the focus of her life. Since then, he’d been forced to revise that opinion. Yes, her career was important to her. It was a priority. But if he was a betting man, he’d wager that it wasn’t the only priority. Or maybe even the most important one. That somewhere along the way she’d found perspective. Yet if that was the case, why wasn’t she married? And why hadn’t she started a family of her own? She was a beautiful, intelligent woman. He’d seen how well she interacted with Dylan, sensed that she’d be a wonderful mother. But still, there was no husband, no child, in her life. Why?

  “Dad?” Dylan tugged at his sleeve and repeated the question. “Who does Amy eat with?”

  “I don’t know. No one, I guess.”

  “Maybe she could eat with us sometime.”

  “Maybe.”

  “How about tonight, Dad? We could call her. Grandpa wouldn’t mind.”

  “Not tonight, champ. It’s not polite to invite people at the last minute.”

  Dylan’s face fell and he looked down again. “I wish she could come. I know she isn’t my mom, but…well, when I’m with her it kind of seems like she is.” He lifted his head and looked at Bryan. “I like that, Dad. It makes me feel good. You know?”

  As a matter of fact, he did. The more he was around Amy, the more he liked the feeling, too. But he wasn’t ready to deal with that. Not yet. Reaching over, he ruffled Dylan’s hair. “I know. And we’ll see her again soon. At church next Sunday, for sure. Maybe even before that. Now, let’s do some sailing.”

  Once he refocused Dylan’s attention, it took only a couple of minutes for the boy to become absorbed in his game. To put aside the earlier conversation and forget about Amy and her appealing qualities and her solitary meals and her worries and her loneliness.

  Bryan wished he could be so easily distracted. But he didn’t have his son’s mental dexterity. She was on his mind more and more, with the result that he found it less and less easy to concentrate on anything else. The time was coming when he’d have to deal with his growing feelings for her and to reconcile them with his love for Darlene, though he wasn’t quite sure how to go about that.

  But as he watched Dylan sail his boat, an idea came to him. One he decided to pursue later that evening.

  From his seat on the wooden bench, Bryan had a nice view down the sloping lawn of the church to the river below and the skyline of Davis Landing on the other side. Although skyline was a pretty ambitious description, considering that most of the buildings were only three or four stories tall. Just a few rose higher, including The Enclave, one of the tallest buildings in town.

  As he looked at it, Bryan wondered what Amy was doing. Was she there, or at the hospital? As Dylan had noticed, she’d seemed preoccupied in church this morning. Although he’d been concerned that their next meeting would be awkward as a result of their near-kiss Thursday night, his apprehension had been needless. He’d managed to avoid her all day at work Friday, and she hadn’t even acknowledged his presence in church. She and Heather and Chris had sat in a protective huddle around their mother, and none of the Hamiltons ha
d appeared to be present at the service in anything more than body. Then again, maybe they had just been deep in conversation with the Lord. That’s what the house of God was for, after all. And that was the reason he’d come here after eating dinner with his father and Dylan.

  Bryan hadn’t been surprised to find that the church had been locked after the six o’clock service. But as he’d settled on the nearby bench, he’d consoled himself with the fact that at least he was close to God’s house. Not that proximity to a physical structure was necessary in order to talk with the Lord, of course. Still, he’d thought it might be easier here. However, after twenty minutes of contemplation he was no closer to figuring out what he should do than he’d been when he’d first sat down. He still felt restless and unsettled and uncertain.

  “Bryan? I thought that was you. Nice to see you.”

  Turning, Bryan saw Pastor Abernathy approaching. They’d chatted a time or two, and Bryan had found the man to be empathetic and insightful. He seemed like a straight shooter, too, and each time Bryan encountered him his estimation of the minister grew.

  “Hello, Pastor. I hope you don’t mind that I borrowed your bench.”

  “It belongs to all the faithful. And I’m glad it’s being put to use. Mind if I join you for a minute?”

  “Not at all.” Bryan scooted over, and the man sat beside him.

  Pastor Abernathy looked out over the river and drew a contented breath. “I sit here myself quite a lot. I like to watch the river flowing by, steady and sure and placid. It reminds me that even amidst turmoil, some things can be counted on. Like this river. And our faith. Knowing that there are certainties like that in life brings a sense of peace and hope that eases the mind.”

  Although he hadn’t thought of it in quite that way, Bryan liked the analogy, even if the setting hadn’t worked the same magic for him as it seemed to for the pastor. He wondered how honest he should be.

  “I like that thought.” He chose his words with care, trying to gauge the man’s reactions as he spoke. “But to be honest, I’m afraid neither the river nor my faith has given me much peace of mind lately.”

  To Bryan’s relief, there was no recrimination on the man’s face. Only a quiet empathy, an invitation, almost, to share more. Yet he didn’t push. He just opened the door.

  “Life can shake even the firmest faith,” he noted in a quiet voice. “Your father told me a little bit about your loss. And Dylan’s health problems. I’m very sorry.”

  Turning away, Bryan looked out over the river. The setting sun was gilding the ribbon of blue and burnishing the gold-and-red autumn leaves on the hills through which it wound. If Darlene had been here, she would have reveled in this display of God’s handiwork, he reflected. Thanks to her, he’d learned to notice—and appreciate—such moments of beauty.

  “My wife would have enjoyed this view.” Bryan’s voice was soft, and his eyes warmed as he thought about the quiet, constant love they’d shared. “And thanks to her, I’m enjoying it, too. She opened my eyes to a lot of things.”

  “Then she gave you a great and lasting gift.”

  “She gave me many gifts, including a wonderful son and a second chance at love. She taught me the true meaning of selflessness. And she brought a sweetness to my life, a fullness, that made me feel richer than any millionaire.” His voice choked on the last word, and he cleared his throat.

  “Those things are a priceless legacy. Yet because she gave you so much, I’m sure her death is even harder to bear.”

  At the minister’s gentle, understanding tone, Bryan turned back to him. “It is. When she first died, I grieved with an intensity I didn’t think possible. And I raged against a God who’d taken away the woman I loved and left me alone to cope with a tiny infant who was fighting for his own life.” Bryan raked his fingers through his hair, his face desolate. “I’d always thought I had a strong faith, but when it was tested I realized that it wasn’t all that solid after all. I felt as if God had deserted me, and without that anchor I was like a boat set adrift on the Cumberland—out of control, at the mercy of the currents, with no way to protect myself from the debris that swept past or the obstacles that loomed ahead.”

  “And how do you feel now, Bryan?”

  “Better, I guess. I started attending church again when I came home, and your sermons have helped steer me back on the right path. They’ve been a great comfort.”

  “I’m glad of that. But I’m only the messenger. The real source of comfort is my Boss.” He flashed his visitor a grin, and Bryan’s own lips turned up in response. “It sounds like you’re finding your way back to the Lord, and that’s a great blessing. But I sense you’re still troubled about something.”

  The man was perceptive, no question about it. Bryan rested his forearms on his thighs and stared at his hands as he clasped them between his knees. “I am. You know the Hamiltons, of course.”

  “They’re in my prayers daily. This has been a time of great trial for them.”

  “Well, the reason I’m troubled is related to one of them.” As briefly as he could, Bryan explained his connection to Amy, their parting years before, and his growing feelings for her. “The thing is, I think perhaps the Lord brought me home for a reason. That maybe we were meant to have that interlude apart, but now the time has come for us to be together. Yet I have this sense that if I return to the woman I first chose as my wife, I’ll somehow be dishonoring the love that Darlene and I shared.”

  As he reflected on that, Pastor Abernathy’s face grew thoughtful. “I understand your concern, Bryan. Yet many years have passed since you first loved Amy Hamilton. Would you say that the two of you are the same people you were ten or twelve years ago?”

  Bryan considered the question. “No. We’ve both done a lot of growing up.”

  “What you’re telling me, then, is that you’ve fallen in love with the woman Amy has become, not the girl she was.”

  He gave a slow nod. “Yes.”

  “Do you think she feels the same way?”

  Recalling the look in her eyes Thursday night when he’d almost kissed her, and the emotion he’d seen in their depths on more than one occasion, that answer, too, seemed clear. “Yes.”

  The man laid a hand on Bryan’s shoulder. “I admire your desire to honor the love you and your wife shared. But if you want my opinion, I don’t see how falling in love again will violate that. Whether it’s with the woman Amy has become or some other woman. The heart has a great capacity to love. An endless capacity, in fact. Loving someone new doesn’t change the love you give, or have given, to others. That will always be uniquely theirs. It just means that you’ve decided to tap into the reservoir of love that hasn’t yet been used.”

  Rising, he rested one hand on the back of the bench and looked at Bryan. “I spent some time in Vermont, and I like to compare love to maple syrup. Each year, the maple trees are tapped. By the next year, the supply of sap has been replenished and they have more to give. Love is like that, too. There’s always more, welling up inside, if we just reach down deep enough and release it. But the sap in maple syrup is only the raw material. After it’s been released, it has to be boiled—tested by fire. Then it’s filtered until all the impurities are removed. The work isn’t easy. It can be a hard, messy job. But in the process, the sap becomes sweeter and reaches its full potential. Just like a love that weathers adversity.”

  Pastor Abernathy’s face grew earnest and intent, much like it did when he spoke from the pulpit. “The thing is, that process of refinement can—and should—be a job every one of us tackles in all our relationships. Perhaps never with more diligence than in the kind of love that ultimately leads to the exchange of vows that unites a man and woman as one flesh. And even though many of us only take on that job once in our lives, there’s no rule that says you can’t have a second chance. We just need to listen to our hearts and trust that the Lord will guide us in right paths if that opportunity comes along.”

  When he finished, a smile ch
ased away the serious look on his face. “Well, now. I didn’t intend to preach twice today.”

  “I’m glad you did.” Although the minister’s analogy had been folksy, Bryan had been touched by the deeper meaning. “It gave me food for thought. And speaking of food…” He consulted his watch. “Dylan and my dad are waiting until I come back to have dessert. I’m sure Dylan is chomping at the bit, since we’re having brownies with ice cream.” He rose and held out his hand. “Thank you.”

  The man took it in a firm clasp. “Like I said, I’m just the messenger. And I’m always available as a sounding board. Now go enjoy your dessert.”

  As Bryan set off across the lawn toward his car, his mind was whirling. In the space of a few minutes, Pastor Abernathy had helped him get a better handle on his issues than all the weeks of solo soul searching he’d done. Even though the road ahead was still a bit hazy, the fog was starting to lift. And as the view began to clear, one word from the minister’s maple syrup analogy stuck in his mind.

  Sap.

  Because he was beginning to believe that’s just what he’d be if he let Amy slip through his fingers again.

  “Have you seen this morning’s Observer?”

  Amy gulped down the rest of her orange juice, reached for her briefcase and checked her watch. “No, Tim. It’s only seven in the morning. I usually don’t read it until I get to the office.”

  “You’d better look now. Page five. And sit down first.”

  At his grim tone, Amy’s fingers tightened around the phone. “Okay. Hang on.” Setting the phone down, she dug through her briefcase and pulled out the Dispatch’s rival paper, which was delivered to her door every morning. As her father always said, it was important to know what the competition was up to.

  Bracing herself, she opened the folded paper to page five and scanned the headlines. It didn’t take her long to find the one Tim had referred to, topping the daily feature “The Gossip Guru.” She read it once. Then read it again.

  There was only one adjective that came close to capturing her reaction.