The Family Man

by Irene Hannon

  “I’m afraid I have some bad news.” Heather dropped into the chair across from Amy’s desk. “Bryan’s leaving.”

  Of all the scenarios Amy’s active imagination had conjured up when Heather mentioned bad news, that hadn’t been one of them. Shocked, she stared at her sister. “What do you mean, leaving?”

  “He’s leaving. Not right away. In January. He wanted to give us as much notice as possible.”

  Still stunned, Amy tried to collect her thoughts. “Did he say why?” And why hadn’t he told her himself? The second question went unvoiced, however. After all, he’d gone through the proper chain of command. That was appropriate protocol for business associates. And despite what had happened the prior Thursday, maybe that’s all he wanted them to be. Her spirits took a nosedive.

  “He told me that he’s been talking to a syndication company for months about writing a weekly family issues column,” Heather continued. “It sounds like they finally reached an agreement. And it’s a great deal for Bryan. He can write from home, which was important to him, because he said he doesn’t want Dylan to grow up in day care. And the initial distribution on the column will be more than a hundred newspapers nationwide. I’m happy for him, sad for us. His departure will be a loss to Nashville Living.”

  “Yeah.”

  “At least we’ll have him for a couple more months.”

  “Yeah.”

  Leaning forward, Heather searched Amy’s face. “Are you okay?”

  “Yeah.” Realizing that she sounded like a stuck record, Amy forced herself to take a deep breath, then reached for a pile of paper. “I’ve already reviewed this stack of copy. You can take it with you.”

  When she held it out to Heather, the pronounced quiver in her hand didn’t escape her sister’s notice. “Look, I’m sure this is a shock. But he’s not leaving town, like the last time. You’ll still be able to see him.”

  “Why would I want to do that?”

  Shaking her head, Heather took the papers, shuffled them into a pile and tapped them on the desk into a neat stack. “You don’t have to pretend with me. I’m your sister. I figured out a long time ago that Bryan still meant more to you than you ever let on.” She headed for the door, pausing on the threshold to throw one parting remark over her shoulder. “And just for the record, I think he feels the same way.”

  She was gone before Amy could respond. And that was probably a good thing, since she had no idea what she would have said.

  “Got a minute?”

  It was the same question Amy had been asked earlier in the day, except this time it came from Bryan instead of Heather.

  Since her sister had dropped her bombshell four hours before, Amy had been too distracted to do much of anything. Over and over she’d asked herself what it meant, and over and over the same answer kept coming back—I don’t know. Was the motive Bryan had given to Heather—that he wanted to be more available for Dylan—legitimate? Or was he leaving because he didn’t want to be around her?

  She wanted to believe it was the former. And it did make sense. Bryan was a family man through and through. For him, family came first. Always had, always would. Period. Even if that meant he had to adjust other parts of his life in order to best accommodate the people he loved. She respected that. Understood it better now than ever before, given all the problems her own family faced and the strength they had drawn from each other. Yet the timing seemed suspect. Right when he seemed to be softening in his attitude toward her, he was leaving. Or maybe…could he be running away? Even as that possibility occurred to her, she dismissed it. She’d never known Bryan to run away from anything.

  After wrestling with those jumbled thoughts and questions for hours, she still had no answers.

  Now Bryan stood at her door, perhaps ready to offer them. And suddenly she wasn’t sure she wanted to hear them.

  The uncertain look that flashed across Amy’s face—a look that bordered almost on fear—confirmed Bryan’s suspicion that she’d taken his resignation the wrong way. That’s why he’d sought her out. Since she hadn’t responded to his first question, he took a step inside. “May I?”

  Realizing she hadn’t answered his initial query, her neck grew warm and she motioned him in. “Of course.”

  After closing the door behind him, he took the seat Heather had occupied earlier. “I assume Heather told you about my resignation.”

  “Yes. We’ll be very sorry to lose you. You’re an exceptional writer.” She tried for a professional, impersonal tone. But the words sounded stilted to her ears.

  “I’m not leaving because of us, Amy.” As usual, he cut right to the chase.

  Her heart stopped, then raced on. “It seems like a wonderful opportunity. I’m happy for you. And this will give you a chance to be at home with Dylan. It’s a perfect arrangement.” The words came out in a breathless rush. She knew she hadn’t addressed his comment, but she didn’t know what to say. She waited for him to take the lead.

  “It is. Dylan’s spent too much of his life already in day care. He deserves a full-time parent at home. This has nothing to do with us.”

  “Is there an us?” The question slipped out, soft and tentative. She hadn’t meant to voice it, and regretted it once she had. “I’m sorry. That’s not appropriate. Forget I asked.”

  A few beats of silence ticked by as he studied her. He seemed to be debating how to respond, and when he did his reply was careful and deliberate. “I’m working through a lot of stuff right now, Amy. And trying to figure out what God’s plan is for me—and for us. I’m not there yet, but I’m getting closer. I just need some time to sort things out.”

  In an instant, Amy was transported back eleven years, to the Christmas of her freshman year in college. To the night she’d told Bryan that she needed time and space. She supposed turnabout was fair play. But for the first time she understood how he must have felt back then. And how difficult it must have been for him to live with the uncertainty of not knowing if the feelings of the woman he loved matched his.

  But what choice did she have? As always, Bryan had been honest. He’d recognized that there was something between them, just as she had. Based on their history and his subsequent marriage, it wasn’t surprising that he wanted to proceed with caution. All she could do was hope that in time he might realize that, despite their past, they could still build a future together. And in the meantime, it couldn’t hurt to give him a glimpse of what was in her heart.

  Summoning up her courage, she looked across her desk, into the deep green eyes that had once softened with love and warmed her like sunshine after a spring rain. Someday, if God smiled on her, she’d see that look again. For now, she was happy that at least the acrimony that had been in their depths when he’d first returned had vanished.

  “Take whatever time you need, Bryan. I’ll wait around.”

  He seemed surprised by her quiet response, almost as if he’d expected her to shut down emotionally or send him packing. And then the most extraordinary thing happened. He didn’t say a word. But for just a moment, one brief instant before he stood and walked out the door, the sun peeked through the clouds in his eyes, sending a ray of warmth that went straight to her heart.

  Chapter Thirteen

  “Hi, Amy. It’s me, Dylan.”

  Amy’s lips curved into a smile and she leaned back in her desk chair. The weather might be raging outside, but the little boy’s voice—even if it did sound congested—brightened her day. “Hi, Dylan. Do you have a cold?”

  “Uh-huh. I had to stay home from school today. But Dad says I’ll feel better tomorrow. Anyway, I tried to call you at home, but I got your machine. So I called the operator, and she found your work number for me. I copied it down all by myself.”

  The pride in his voice widened Amy’s smile. “I’m impressed. That’s a lot of numbers to write.”

  “Yeah. Anyway, I wondered if you could come and eat dinner with us on Sunday.”

  Taken aback, Amy debated how to respond as a
flash of lightning zigzagged across the sky outside her window, followed by an unsettling crash of thunder. “Does your dad know that you’re inviting me?”

  “Not ’zactly. But at the park last Sunday, he told me that you eat by yourself a lot, and when I asked him if you could come and have dinner with us later at Grandpa’s house, he said it wasn’t polite to invite people at the last minute. That’s why I called tonight. To be polite. Can you come, Amy?”

  The hopeful note in his voice tugged at her heart. Of course, Bryan had no idea his son had called. And no doubt he’d be less than thrilled when he found out. He’d been laying low ever since his visit to her office earlier in the week.

  As Amy tried to come up with a way to turn Dylan down without hurting his feelings, she heard muffled voices in the background, just like the last time the little boy had called to issue an invitation. Now, as then, Bryan intervened.

  “Amy?”

  “Hi, Bryan.”

  “Sorry about this. I had a long talk with Dylan the first time he called with an impromptu invitation. I’ll have to try again.”

  On the last occasion, Amy had more or less invited herself to James’s retirement party. She wasn’t about to repeat that mistake. Especially since Bryan had asked for time to sort through his issues. “It’s not a problem, Bryan. I enjoy talking to him.”

  “I think the feeling is mutual.”

  Another crash of thunder boomed, rattling the windows, and Amy stared into the darkness outside. Rain pelted against the building, sending wide streams of water coursing down the glass. She wasn’t looking forward to making her meals-on-wheels rounds tonight. But the sooner she got rolling, the sooner she could get home.

  “Don’t worry about the call, Bryan. Look, I’ve got to run. I’m going to try and get a jump on my meal deliveries in case the storm gets worse. Tell Dylan that I appreciate the invitation and that I’ll see him at church on Sunday.”

  Silence greeted her words, and for a second Amy wondered if the lightning had knocked out the phones. “Bryan?”

  “Yeah. I’m here.” He’d forgotten about Amy’s Friday night obligation. As he’d driven home through the raging storm, he’d been focused on Dylan. Although he’d talked to his son in the morning and afternoon, and his father had assured him that the little boy was doing fine, he’d been anxious and on edge all day. His worry about his son had been assuaged when he’d arrived home and seen for himself that the youngster was okay. Now another worry took its place. “Listen, the storm’s pretty bad. Can someone else run the route for you tonight?”

  Touched by his concern, Amy leaned back in her chair. “No. We’re always short-handed as it is. Besides, I’ve delivered in all kinds of weather. It won’t be a problem. In a couple of hours I’ll be at home sitting in front of my fireplace.”

  For a second, an appealing image of Amy curled up in front of a roaring fire—with him by her side—flashed across Bryan’s mind. But he squelched it at once. Just a few days before, he was the one who had asked for time. He couldn’t very well invite himself over to her place. In any case, the issue was Amy’s safety, not a romantic rendezvous, he reminded himself, refocusing his thoughts. If his father hadn’t taken off for a movie with a friend, Bryan would have offered to sub for her himself. As it was, his hands were tied. “Could it wait until tomorrow, in the daylight?”

  “No. These people count on the meals. I couldn’t in good conscience send anyone to bed hungry.”

  That was a tough argument to refute. Nevertheless, tonight wasn’t a good time to be on the road. The lashing rain and fierce wind had spooked even him on his short drive home. Of course, Davis Landing wasn’t that large. It wouldn’t take Amy that long to complete her deliveries. And if she had any problems, help would be nearby.

  “Okay. But…be careful.”

  “I’ll be fine. Tell Dylan I’ll see him soon.”

  As she placed the phone back in its cradle, another flash of lightning sizzled across the valley, illuminating the river below in an eerie light. Though she’d assured Bryan that she’d be okay, in truth she wasn’t looking forward to the next couple of hours. The rural roads were dark and sparsely traveled, and in weather like this she could run into flash flooding. But she knew the trouble spots. As long as she was careful and took her time, there shouldn’t be any problems.

  With a sigh of relief, Amy eased out of the gravel driveway, pulled onto the paved secondary road and pointed her car toward home. All her meals had been delivered, and the gratitude of her clients had more than made up for the kink in her neck—the result of two white-knuckled hours behind the steering wheel. Other than the pain in her neck, though, she was no worse for wear.

  As she’d forged on through the gale, however, she’d realized that Bryan’s warnings had been justified. The Cumberland River valley was prone to storms this time of year, often remnants of hurricanes hundreds of miles away. The most recent tropical storm had done a number on the Gulf coast and was now giving Tennessee a sample of its waning wrath. The storm had raged all day, and even now the wind was still howling. Tree limbs were down everywhere, but at least none had fallen across the road.

  Only when Amy headed into the home stretch toward town did she begin to relax. In less than fifteen minutes, she could put on her warm, fuzzy slippers and curl up in front of her fireplace. A cup of hot chocolate would be just the thing to chase away the chill, she decided. Then she’d check in with her mother to get an update on her father’s infection, which was continuing to respond to treatment. At least there’d been good news on that front in recent days. After she relaxed a bit, she might broil a…

  An odd sound from her car suddenly intruded on her pleasant line of thought, and she frowned. At first, she couldn’t figure out what the noise was, and she reduced her pressure on the gas pedal, straining to listen. Within seconds, however, she didn’t have to strain, or to wonder. The distinctive thlump, thlump, thlump could be produced by only one thing: a flat tire.

  Easing her car off the road onto the almost nonexistent shoulder, she shut off the engine, rested her hands on top of the wheel and let her forehead drop forward. Talk about bad timing. In another few minutes she would have been home. Still, it could have been worse, she consoled herself. She did have her cell phone, after all. Help was just a call away.

  But her peace of mind was short-lived. When she pulled the phone out of her purse and tried to turn it on, she realized with a sinking feeling that the battery was dead. Although her phone had gotten shoved into a corner a couple of times in the past, depressing the on button and draining the battery, it had never before happened at a critical time. As Vera Mae was always fond of saying, however, there was a first time for everything.

  Considering the circumstances, Amy knew her options were limited. And walking the remaining few miles to town wasn’t one of them. Even though the weather had tapered off a bit, she wasn’t inclined to set out on another trek in the three-inch heels she still hadn’t gotten rid of. Been there, done that. And this time there would be no Bryan to come to her rescue.

  She could sit the storm out until someone missed her, but since tomorrow was Saturday and she’d had no specific plans, her absence might not be noticed until Sunday. Scratch that plan.

  Nor would it be logical to wait for another car to come along. The secondary road wasn’t traveled much even in good weather, and she doubted whether anyone would be on it tonight. At least not anyone in their right mind. A scary thought if ever there was one, considering her isolated, vulnerable situation. Well, she just wouldn’t go there, she decided, making a concerted effort to channel her brain in a different direction.

  She mulled over her final option: Change the tire. She didn’t relish tackling that job in this weather, but at least she knew how to do it. Chris had insisted several years before that all the Hamilton women learn a few self-help techniques for emergencies, including changing a tire. No one had grumbled more loudly than she about his edict. Now she was glad he’d been adam
ant. Though she’d never changed a tire by herself, she remembered the instructions and was confident she could handle it. Of course, she’d prefer to be in jeans and a sweatshirt. But she’d cope.

  After flipping on her emergency blinkers, she rummaged in her glove compartment for a flashlight, trying to psych herself up for the task at hand. She could do this. Of course she could. After all, she was an independent, capable woman, perfectly able to take care of herself. She didn’t need a knight on a white horse to rescue her and solve all her problems. That was for fairy tales, not real life.

  But as she stepped out into the cold rain and a shiver ran through her, she couldn’t help wishing that just this once, that particular fairy tale would come true.

  “Hello. This is Amy. I can’t take your call right now. Please leave a message and I’ll get back to you as soon as possible.”

  His mouth thinning in frustration, Bryan replaced the receiver and planted his fists on his hips. Although he’d told himself all evening that Amy would be fine, in the end he’d been worried enough to call her condo, knowing he’d never be able to sleep until he was sure she’d arrived home safely. Except no one had answered. Not the first time he’d tried, nor the second time, nor this time.

  She might have stopped somewhere else, but he doubted it. She’d sounded anxious to get home. In fact, she’d said she hoped to be in front of her fireplace in a couple of hours. That had been at five-thirty. It was now eight o’clock.

  Bryan forced himself to wait another ten minutes, then tried her number again, with the same result. As his panic began to escalate, he dug through his wallet and withdrew a card containing emergency off-hours numbers for key personnel at Nashville Living. Without stopping to second-guess himself, he punched in Heather’s home number, his grip on the phone tightening when there was no answer after several rings. Just when he was expecting yet another answering machine to kick in, a breathless voice greeted him.