This Time

by Rachel Hauck

  "Instead of getting angry at her, why don't you offer her some compassion and care? She needs some about now," Reese suggested.

  "She's coming," Dean warned.

  Everyone turned to greet Belle, consoling her with words of hope, volunteering help.

  Belle's face remained drawn and her eyes puffy from crying. Softly she announced she would spend the night in the room with her father.

  "That's a good idea," Elaine encouraged, stroking her still matted hair.

  Just then, Spencer barreled through the ER doors, demanding to know what happened. He possessively reached for Belle and cradled her in his arms.

  Jealousy smacked Burke's heart. Tired of the whole ordeal, he slipped undetected out of the ER. His sleek sports car sped over the county's back roads as he drove home, his hands gripping the wheel until his fingers tingled. He cried out to the Lord, frustrated, purporting to reason with Him over Belle's unjust accusation.

  But the still, small, voice he longed to hear remained silent.

  Once he arrived home, Burke retreated to his grandfather's prayer chair and settled his anxious spirit by turning his heart toward the Prince of Peace. Then, and only then, did his answer come.

  Greater love has no one than this that one lay down his life for his friends.

  For a long time, Burke meditated on what God spoke, trying to understand, working to make it a reality in his heart. Gradually, a plan began to unfold.

  An hour later he picked up the phone and dialed his agent.

  "John, it's Burke." A gregarious voice greeted him on the other end of the line.

  "I'm fine, thanks. Listen, I'm not going to be able to get out to the coast this weekend." He leaned forward in the chair and rubbed his forehead as he listened to John complain and whine. "Reschedule, then, but this Friday is out."

  He detailed the day's tragedy. A friend was in trouble and he needed to stay and help.

  "No, no one else can do it. I'm positive. I'll call you in a few weeks. Yes, reschedule. Thanks, man."

  ***

  Belle slipped into her father's cool, quiet room and pulled a chair beside the bed. She slipped her hand into his and tearfully watched him sleep.

  "Daddy," she said, lightly touching his leg cast, her shoulders sagging. "I'm sorry I didn't come after you. I'm so sorry."

  With her face buried in his hospital blankets, she prayed, surrendering her fears to her heavenly Father, trusting Him with the life of her earthly father.

  Spencer popped his head in the door. In a whisper, he asked, "Are you sure you want to stay here tonight? You should go home and get cleaned up, sleep in your own bed."

  She looked at him, shaking her head, tears wetting her cheeks. She motioned toward the two reclining chairs positioned at the foot of the hospital bed. "I'm staying here tonight. The nurses will let me take a shower in their locker room. They lent me a pair of scrubs, a blanket and a pillow."

  He slipped into the room and urged her again to go home. "Those chairs aren't comfortable."

  "I'm not leaving Daddy." Her tone indicated no compromise.

  Spencer brushed his hand tenderly over her face, drying her tears. Bending down, he kissed her cheek goodnight. "Have it your way."

  After showering, Belle settled herself in Duke's room, first shutting off the overhead lights and then switching on the lamp next to the chairs. A soft hue lit her little corner.

  Logically, she believed the doctor's report that he would recover. Emotionally, she felt scared and isolated. Today's incident reminded her that life is precious and fleeting.

  A gentle knock on the door roused her from her pondering. She glanced at her watch as she replied, "Come in."

  She expected the night nurse, making her rounds, to check her father's vitals. But instead, Burke's sincere face peered around the door.

  Chapter Twelve

  "What are you doing here?" she asked, too weary to be angry with him anymore

  He raised a brown paper bag, and the smell of burgers wafted through the air. His intense blue eyes pleaded with her as he spoke. "Two Charlie's cheeseburgers, one all the way, one with no tomato. Two large fries and chocolate shakes."

  Charlie's burgers were one of her favorites, and her stomach rumbled as the heady scent of the hot food wafted across the room.

  "I can't believe you remembered," she said, motioning for him to set the burgers on the table.

  "How could I forget?" he said, handing the milkshakes to her before reaching into the bag.

  They ate in silence for the first few minutes, Belle savoring the burger's taste. She washed it down with a long slurp of her shake. Looking askance at Burke she confessed, "I blamed you for this, you know."

  Burke finished chewing and swallowed, nodding his head. "I heard."

  She chuckled nervously. "How ridiculous for me to accuse you."

  "Well, I thought so, but hey, I've done worse."

  One eyebrow shot up as Belle said, "Don't I know it."

  "How long is it going to take for me to live it down?"

  Belle eyed him, a slight grin on her lips. "You've only just begun, Benning."

  He rolled his eyes and curled his lip. "I figured as much."

  Her face became serious and her eyes snapped at him. "Twelve years, Burke, twelve years of stuffing everything I wanted to say to you."

  "Guess I got it coming to me."

  "Thank you for what you did for Daddy," she said, changing the course of the conversation.

  Burke glanced over at her father, sleeping a few feet away, before peering at her. "Any time, Jamison, any time."

  Belle shook her head. Her world had flipped upside down since their chapel encounter earlier that evening. A few hours ago she balked at the idea of carrying on a conversation with him. Now, they shared dinner and the night watch over her father.

  "Why'd you come?" she asked.

  "I thought you might need some company."

  She stared at him for a moment. "Thanks for being here."

  He popped up the leg rest on the recliner and stretched out. "I wasn't sure I'd be welcome."

  "Another day, another time, you wouldn't have been."

  "I thought Spencer might stick around," he said, his tone wrapped with suspicion.

  Detecting his undertone, she answered honestly. "We're just friends, Burke." She swirled her shake with a long straw.

  "I see," he said.

  "When do you head back to Colorado?"

  Burke pillowed his head with his hands clasped together and fixed his eyes on the ceiling. "No time soon."

  She eyed him suspiciously. "What? Pre-season games start in a month or so."

  He sat up and threw his legs over the side of the chair. "I retired."

  Belle leaned toward him. "Retired?"

  He launched into his story, and she listened intensely, staring at him as if seeing him for the first time.

  "Wow," she said with a low whistle. "I never thought I'd see the day. I figured you'd die running in for a touchdown."

  "Me too, but the Lord has other plans for me. I'm at peace with my decision."

  "What are you going to do?"

  Burke's husky laugh resonated through the room. "Coach."

  "Coach? Where, at the University?" The pitch of Belle's voice rose with speculation.

  "High school."

  "High school," she echoed, modulating her tone, not wanting to disturb her father.

  Burke spread his arms as if to say "ta-da". "Meet Haskell High's new head football coach."

  Belle's mouth dropped open as she slapped her hand on the cold vinyl of the recliner. "You're kidding."

  "Anderson is retiring, too. He asked me to consider taking the job. During prayer at the chapel this evening, I got the green light from the Lord to accept the position."

  Belle flopped against the back of her chair. "I'm speechless."

  "I'm excited."

  "I'm speechless," she repeated. "The great Burke Benning now a high school football coach?"
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  He frowned. "What are you implying, Belle?"

  "From fame and fortune to Haskell High? You gotta admit it's an extreme change."

  He nodded, agreeing. "Maybe, if you have the world's perspective. But from a heavenly perspective, it makes perfect sense."

  "I'm impressed."

  "I'll be living here again," he said, searching her face.

  Belle slid off the recliner and walked over to the window. Several stories below, amber colored lights burned in the nearly empty parking lot, fighting back the night. "Are you asking me if I mind?"

  Burke joined her at the window. "Do you? I feel like I'm moving in on your territory."

  She turned to him, his nearness both comforting and disturbing. "I suppose this town is big enough for the both of us."

  He reached for her, brushing her arm lightly with his hand. "I hope we can be friends again."

  She stiffened at his touch, but resisted the urge to move away. "We'll see, Burke. Let's just get through today's ordeal, okay?" She left the window, pretending to check on her father who still slept. Burke's touch rattled her, threatening the thin wall that still guarded her heart.

  "He'll be out riding ol' Pepper before the end of summer," Burke said.

  She smiled at the idea. "For so long it's just been Daddy and me."

  "You've been blessed with a good father."

  "Can't argue that," Belle said, suddenly feeling very weary. Returning to her recliner, she said with a sigh, "He never missed your games on TV."

  "Really?"

  "He'd pop a big bowl of popcorn, settle in his chair and cheer you on."

  "I wish I'd have known."

  Belle faced him, her expression determined. "You have to know you hurt him, too."

  "I do," he answered, his words muffled with regret. He moved to the window again and stared out, thumbs hooked in the pocket of his jeans.

  "I never knew how hurt he was until the other day."

  "I'm sorry, Belle," he whispered.

  "Don't tell me, tell him."

  "First chance I get," he said, a genuine affection wrapping his words.

  The door pushed open, and the nurse came in pulling a cart. "Need to take his vitals," she said, crisp and professional. "Kindly step outside."

  Once in the corridor, Belle suggested some cafeteria coffee. Burke agreed.

  "So, how about you?" he asked, when they'd paid for their coffee and pulled up to a table.

  "What about me?"

  "Did you watch any of my games with your dad?"

  Avoiding his gaze, she shook her head no. She'd tried a couple of times - once during his rookie year, then again a few years later. But the memory of what should have been came crashing down on her, rekindling the heartache she desperately needed to overcome.

  Burke stared into his coffee, sadness shrouding his eyes. Belle stared at the wall.

  "You were an integral part of my football journey."

  "I wasn't the one who put an end to that, Burke."

  He sighed. "Yeah, I know."

  An intern passed by the cafeteria door and recognized Burke. Boldly, the young man approached, pulling a pen and prescription pad from the pocket of his stiff white lab coat, and asked for Burke's autograph. Burke scribbled his name while carrying on a brief conversation.

  "You've lived quite a life," she said when the intern left.

  "I suppose. But, you know, somehow I think the best is yet to come." He took a sip of his coffee. "So," he started, his question low and tender. "Our chapel conversation ended rather abruptly."

  "What do you mean?" Belle asked.

  "Have we said all we want to say?"

  "About how you broke my heart and ruined my life?" Belle downed the last of her coffee and tapped her cup on the tabletop.

  "In a word, yes."

  "What else is there to say?"

  He shrugged. "You were upset when you left. If you have more to say to me, I'd like to hear it."

  Tears stung in her eyes again. "Not now, Burke, I don't have the energy." She let her gaze fall on his face.

  "I understand," he said. "This has been a rather chaotic day."

  "That's an understatement," she said.

  Burke said, "I know we can't deal with the last twelve years in a few short conversations."

  "Not even a few long ones," she said wryly.

  "Can I ask a question?"

  "Sure."

  Burke dipped his head, and his hands fiddled with his empty coffee cup. "What'd you look like?"

  Belle glared at him. "Look like?" she repeated.

  He shifted nervously in his seat. "I always wondered what you looked like in your wedding dress."

  She reared back surprised, absently chewing on the rim of her Styrofoam coffee cup. Her heart raced.

  "What an odd question, Burke," she finally said.

  He brushed his head with his hands, still staring at the floor. "Well, it's one of the odd things I've thought about over the years. I always remember how excited you were about the gown you found. I regret I didn't get to see you wear it."

  Belle asked with cynical edge. "Is that all you regret about that day?"

  He frowned and said with passion, "Of course not."

  She answered him. "I really can't remember." She tapped her fingernails on the side of her cup.

  He looked into her eyes. "I imagined you were the definition of beautiful."

  Her heart fluttered at the sincere compliment. "Thank you, but Burke, we can't get that day back."

  He glanced away and nodded once. "The core of my regret."

  She reached across the table and touched his hand briefly, realizing his dilemma that dreadful day. Not wanting to hurt her, yet too full of doubts to make the commitment. The turmoil must have been incredible.

  The conversation stalled. After a moment, Belle said in a soft, reminiscent tone. "The dress was white satin with a wide skirt and a long, flowing train. The bodice was off the shoulder and trimmed with thousands of pearls and lace. I wore my hair down. My veil, well…" She stopped and motioned around her head with her hands. "It was big and poofy." She looked at him with a slight grin. It felt good to speak the memory out loud.

  "Sounds beautiful," he said with tenderness.

  "Yeah, well…" Her sentence trailed off as the reality of the day she wore the dress quickly resurfaced. She fidgeted nervously. Suddenly, she lifted her empty coffee cup. "Think I'll go for a refill."

  "Sounds good."

  As they walked across the cafeteria to the coffee machine, Burke said, "Belle, I want to fix the porch."

  She whirled around. "You what?" The quick change in the conversation caught her off guard; her mind still wrapped around the picture of her twelve year old wedding dress.

  "I want to bring a few of the guys from the team over to work on your porch."

  Her eyes narrowed. "Really?"

  "Really," he said seriously. "I want to help out. I think I can get some of the guys to pitch in."

  She turned and walked back to their table. Sitting back down, she shook her head. "I don't get it."

  Burke grabbed his seat and moved it closer to hers. "I want to be there for you and Duke. The Bar J has always been a second home to me. Besides, you don't have the time to hunt down contractors. Let me do the work."

  His offer of aid touched her heart, although the idea of him showing up every day at the Bar J made her feel awkward.

  "Belle," he said softly, "don't twist this around too much in your head."

  She stared at the dark window on the other side of the cafeteria for a moment. Normally a decision like this came easy and without hesitation. But the day's events had sapped her of her energy to think. She couldn't find one good reason as to why she should deny his request. Finally, with a quick nod, she agreed.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Two weeks after the tornado terrorized the county, Burke and his young team hammered the last nail into the Jamison porch. The uprooted cottonwood had been cut up, corded,
and stacked along the side of the house for winter fires.

  From atop the new roof where he inspected the last bit of work, Burke watched Belle maneuver her still dented truck down the drive.

  He scurried down the ladder and greeted her in the barnyard.

  "Evening, Jamison."

  "Evening, Benning," she replied, getting out of the truck.

  Burke pulled off his blue ball cap and turned it around so the bill was on the back on his head. He grinned as she walked toward him, the dogs clamoring about her legs, barking for attention.

  She wore a tattered old cowboy hat that he recognized as once belonging to Duke. Her jeans were ripped at the knees and covered with dust. The sleeves of her plain red tee shirt were rolled up to her shoulders, and dirt smudged her sweaty, but pretty face.

  Burke liked the way she looked at the end of the day, dusty and sweaty, yet still walking with her back straight and her shoulders square. Her green eyes were radiant with a zest for life, and a broad easy smile graced her lips.

  "What do you think?" he asked, sweeping his arm toward the porch.

  She stood back, hands on her hips, and surveyed the new structure. She looked up at him and announced, "It's the best porch in the whole county."

  He let out a deep breath and smiled. "Mission accomplished," he said.

  "I don't know how to thank you," Belle started. "You won't take money--"

  "Have dinner with me," he said.

  She studied him for a moment. Burke imagined the wheels of her mind churning as she considered his request. "Please," he simply said.

  Over the past two weeks they'd worked into a comfortable routine, amiably greeting each other in the morning and evenings, Belle allowing him to touch the superficial part of her life.

  After the fourth day, she began brewing a pot of fresh coffee for them to share at the dawn of the day. They discussed the day's work while sitting on the back step, sipping from their cups and watching the sunrise.

  Burke heartened as he felt their friendship start to mend. Dinner, he decided, would move them away from the casual day-to-day talk of work and open the door to discuss more personal issues. Besides, he couldn't envision anything more enjoyable than spending an evening with Belle Jamison.