Tender Vow

by MacLaren Sharlene

  “I hear the doc says you have to rest for a week or so.”

  “I’ll go stir-crazy with no one to talk to and nothing to do. I’ll be in on Wednesday.”

  Todd shook his head. “Don’t be crazy, my friend. You took a serious beating. Besides, I’ve got things under control. Finished the Langston house, hung the trusses on that spec home out at Forest Hills, and even started digging the basement in that next lot over.”

  “That’s good. I was supposed to have lunch today with Howard Baker to discuss a proposal.”

  “I’m sure Diane’s already canceled it.”

  “Of course—what was I thinking? She knows my life better than I do!”

  Then, as if a lightbulb had just exploded in his head, Jason sat up and groaned.

  “What’s wrong?” Todd asked, leaning forward.

  “Oh, no!” he moaned.

  “Are you in pain?”

  “Yeah, and it’s about to get worse.”

  “What are you talking about?” Todd sounded genuinely concerned as he moved around to the window side of the bed.

  “Candace. I missed a date with her last night.”

  “With Candace? But I thought you two—”

  “Yeah, yeah, we broke up, but this was going to be just a casual deal—for old times’ sake.”

  “Casual, huh?” Todd straightened his shoulders and stood tall. “Nothing’s casual with Candace. She’s out for gold, buddy. She still hasn’t gotten over you, you know; might as well face it.”

  “Sheesh.” Jason grabbed his now pounding head. “She probably thinks I skipped out on her on purpose. She’ll be so mad.”

  “So? Maybe she’ll get the idea.”

  Jason looked at his foreman. “It wasn’t my intention to purposely hurt her.”

  Todd shrugged and inhaled a deep breath. “Okay, okay, give me her number. I’ll call her.”

  “Thanks, but no need. I’ll do it. She’ll want to reschedule, and I’ll decline. She’ll get over it.”

  His breakfast arrived at that point, and Todd took his leave shortly afterward. Next, the doctor came in, ran a quick test of his vitals, and handed him a release form, along with a detailed sheet of instructions on caring for his wounds. “Rest,” he said, “is essential for healing those ribs and multiple contusions. Stay home from work for the whole week. Depending on how you feel next week, you might consider taking off a few more days.”

  Fat chance, Jason thought. Todd was good, but not that good.

  At eleven forty-five, his parents still hadn’t showed, and his patience was growing thin. Hospitals weren’t among his favorite hangouts, and he was anxious to get out, even if he had to ride in a wheelchair. He’d asked his parents to pick him up by noon but thought they’d come a little earlier just to get him on his way. He gingerly turned over to stare out the window at the azure sky, and he noticed one puffy cloud drifting past the upper corner of the pane. Today would have been the perfect day to ride his bike—if he still had one. He wondered if his insurance company would pick up the cost of a new one. Chances were, they didn’t pay for stupidity.

  He dug deep in the recesses of his memory for the perfect passage of Scripture to fit his situation, and the first one that came to mind was a verse from Proverbs he’d read from his NIV Study Bible several mornings ago: “How long will you lie there, you sluggard? When will you get up from your sleep?” He would have to remember that one!

  He tucked a hand under his bruised, scraped cheek and winced. He should sit up, he supposed, but whether he wanted to admit it or not, being vertical made him dizzy. Maybe it was good hospitals sent their patients to the front door in wheelchairs. He hadn’t even been able to dress himself without that bossy, gray-haired nurse helping him. Talk about humiliating. He breathed loud and deep, as if that would change anything. Soon, he found himself praying, albeit silently.

  Lord, I can’t see one good thing about any of this. You say in Romans that all things work together for good to those who love the Lord. Is this Your way of showing me how You have my best interests in mind? I surrendered my all to You yesterday morning, and in the next moment, a guy clobbered me with his car. This hardly seems fair, God. Shouldn’t this be a two-way street, with each of us giving a little?

  Seek and listen, My son. Seek and listen.

  In one fluid move, he flipped over on his back. Ouch! Not only had scorching pain shot up his spine, but also he’d heard the voice of God—and both seared him to the core. Crossing his legs at the ankles and folding his arms across his throbbing chest, he muttered to the ceiling, “There I go again, telling You how things should go. Thanks for that gentle little slap, Lord. I needed it.”

  A flickering shadow made him glance toward the door. Was he dreaming? “Rachel?” he whispered. In another fluid move, he sat up and slid his legs over the side of the bed, for some reason thinking he had to demonstrate his manly side, ever strong and capable. Altogether the wrong thing to do. Instant nausea overtook him.

  “Jason, for goodness’ sake, you’re turning green. Lie down this instant,” she ordered him. He swiftly obeyed, hoping the queasiness would subside before he made a complete idiot of himself. What was she doing here? Where were his parents? She wasn’t supposed to see him like this. He was both appalled and thrilled.

  “Do you need this?” She thrust a green plastic container under his chin. He quickly shoved it aside, even as he silently acknowledged her wisdom.

  That was the only move he made, though, other than to slowly roll his eyes in her direction. She looked gorgeous, her golden-blonde hair catching the light, her blue eyes flashing. He blinked twice. “What are you doing here?”

  She smiled sweetly. “I’ve come to take you home.”

  “You’ve what?” He took several swallows, all of them bitter-tasting. Out of the question! His place looked like it’d been burglarized. He couldn’t have her walking in there. “You can’t—that’s not—I can manage on my own.”

  “Oh, pooh,” she said, flicking her wrist. “You can’t even sit up without heaving, Jay. I’m going to get you all situated and take care of you for a few days. How’s that?”

  “What?” Splendid. Amazing. Unbelievable. Impossible. “Rachel, my condo is—”

  She leaned forward, her warm breath grazing his forehead. “Yes?”

  Licking his dry lips, he peered up at her. “A disaster.”

  “So?” She raised her eyebrows. “Remember how my house looked last fall when you came barging into my life uninvited? Well, what goes around comes around, buddy.” With that, she flicked him lightly on the shoulder.

  “Ouch. Just so you know, every place on my body hurts.”

  “Really?” She scrunched up her nose. “Aw, poor thing.” Where did he get the idea she didn’t feel all that sorry for him? Furthermore, what kind of game was she playing?

  And where were his parents?

  ***

  “Disaster” didn’t come close to describing the condition of Jason’s condo. Gracious, had he never been introduced to dusting spray? And no wonder his vacuum looked brand-new—judging by the crumbs, wrappers, and lint in the rugs, it had never been used! Dirty clothes and soda cans littered nearly every room, as did soiled dishes, sports magazines, books, and old newspapers. Was this the same man who’d lectured her last year on keeping a tidy house? The scoundrel!

  After two hours of cleaning, scouring, dusting, vacuuming, and mopping, her neck, back, and pretty much every other part of her body ached, but in a good way. She surveyed her progress—the shelves she’d organized, the area rugs she’d shaken out, the emptied trash cans, and the kitchen counters, now cleared of dirty dishes after she’d loaded the dishwasher. She’d even gathered up enough stray clothes around the house for two full loads of laundry. Next time she went up to Jason’s bedroom, she meant to ask him why in the world his clothes hamper sat empty!

  Helping him get situated had been a chore unto itself. He hadn’t exactly welcomed her assistance, and she wondered if h
e wasn’t even a bit perturbed with her for being there. Well, he could just get over it. He obviously couldn’t take care of himself, and he’d proved it within his first half hour of being back at home. He’d insisted rather adamantly that he could manage on his own, and so she’d left him to his own devices, only to be called right back into the room to help him get his bandaged elbow past his shirtsleeve and remove his shoes and socks.

  “I don’t see why you didn’t let me help you with this in the first place,” she’d scolded him, tucking a blanket around him after he’d fallen back onto his bed in an exhausted heap, his brow beaded with sweat, his breathing labored. She would have been lying to say his nearness wasn’t affecting her, but now was no time to dwell on that or divulge her feelings to him. No, there would be time for that later, if and when she sensed God’s leading. For now, her mission was to nurse him back to health—with or without his appreciation.

  “When did you get to be so bossy, Rachel Kay?” he’d asked, staring up at her, mouth lifted slightly in one corner. His tangled mess of hair had begged to be finger-combed, but she’d resisted.

  “When did you get to be such a grump, Jason Allen?” she’d countered.

  “I’m not a grump by nature, but, if you’ll recall, a giant piece of metal on wheels rammed into me yesterday. That sort of thing tends to put a damper on one’s mood and ability to navigate.”

  “Which is precisely why I’m here. You need help.”

  “My mom could have come.”

  “I’m sure you’re right, but you’re stuck with me.”

  They’d engaged in a staring contest lasting the better share of a minute, and then he’d blinked and said, “I’m not used to being waited on by such a pretty lady.”

  Feeling rather bold and sassy, she’d arched an eyebrow at him and said, “Good. Best not get used to it, either.” With that, she’d swiveled on her heel and, as she’d opened the door to leave, heard him chuckle ever so faintly.

  Giving the condo a critical once-over, she mulled over the furniture arrangement in the living room. Two chairs sat at angles to the flat-screen TV, while the sofa faced a different wall. She couldn’t imagine what he’d been thinking when he’d set it up. Why, the entire thing was wrong.

  So, while the downstairs filled with the wonderful aromas of ham and potato chowder simmering on the stove and half a dozen crescent rolls baking in the oven, she set about repositioning the living room furniture, including the side tables.

  She was certain he would love it.

  ***

  Jason lay in bed, wondering about the racket going on downstairs. First, it’d been the vacuum, then the clatter of dishes, pots, and pans, then the churn of the washer and drone of the dryer. Now, it sounded like she might be trying to move heaven and earth. If he’d had the strength or gumption, he might have walked to the top of the stairs to peer down, but the pain of cracked ribs, bruised, scraped arms and legs, and a splitting headache, along with wooziness induced by pain medication, kept him anchored to his bed. Feeling parched, he reached for the glass of water Rachel had set on his bedside table several hours ago but miscalculated the distance and knocked it over, creating a small puddle on the hardwood. A mild curse came floating off his lips before he had a chance to call it back. While he had a firm relationship with the Lord now, his old habits of the tongue had not vanished entirely.

  Why had Rachel come, exactly? He distinctly recalled telling her the next move had to be hers. Is that what this was? Or was she merely playing the part of nice sister-in-law as a way to repay him for helping her during her own time of need? He couldn’t let his heart skip all over the place just because she was in his house—not until he’d determined her motives. One thing he’d say for her—she’d tempered her feisty side over the past few months. Could it be that he’d angered her by not calling? Women! Why had God made them so all-fired impossible to figure out?

  His cell phone vibrated beneath his pillow. With careful movements, he retrieved it from its resting place. “Hello?” he said groggily.

  “Jason Evans, where in the world were you Saturday night? I’ll have you know I waited at your condo for an hour, thinking someone would surely drop you off.” Candace’s high-pitched railing prompted him to hold the phone away from his ear. “I looked through the garage window and saw that your Jeep was there, but you didn’t answer your door. If you’d changed your mind about going out, the least you could have done is call me.”

  “Candace, I’m sorry about that. I meant to call you, I really did, but I’ve been…well, a bit incapacitated.”

  “How so?”

  “My bike and I had a little run-in with a car.”

  ***

  Rachel lined a wooden tray with a yellow tea towel and loaded it with a set of silverware wrapped in a white linen napkin, a tall glass of ice water, a steaming bowl of stew, and two buttered crescent rolls, then lifted it by the handles and carried it up the stairs. She hadn’t peeked in on Jay all afternoon, not wanting to disturb his sleep, but as she approached now, she heard quiet talking.

  “Like I said, I’m sorry, Candace. I know I should have called you sooner.…Yeah, I’ll be fine in no time.…What’s that?” He gave a light burst of laughter. “You’re not kidding. I feel….”

  As his voice drifted out of hearing, Rachel dropped her hand from the doorknob as if she’d just been shocked by a live wire. Her heart, once pattering with excitement at the thought of presenting Jay with his supper, now dropped to her toes like a lead sinker. She took a full step back and deliberated whether to go downstairs again, stand at the door until she was sure he’d hung up, or simply write him a note and slip it under the door for him to find later:

  Went home, you two-timing skunk. Have a happy life with Candace.

  How could he do this to her—tell her he loved her and then, because she hadn’t reciprocated the feelings immediately, run back to Candace? And just when had he planned to tell her about it? Gracious, what if Candace were on her way over this very minute? Perhaps the two of them were plotting even now how to get her to go home. No wonder he hadn’t been overly thrilled her coming over to help. He’d wanted Candace at his side, instead!

  Oh, Lord, what kind of fool was I to think he’d enjoy my barging in on him? She felt her cheeks go hot then cold as her brow beaded with perspiration.

  “Rachel?” The sound of his hoarse voice on the other side of the door gave her such a jolt that the water in the glass on the tray nearly sloshed over the rim. She took several calming breaths, gripping the tray tightly, for fear she might drop it in her angst. Pondering how to proceed, she closed her eyes and muttered a hasty prayer for guidance. She figured it would be best not to let him know she’d overheard his conversation and see if he confessed it on his own.

  “Rachel?” he repeated. “You down there?”

  She silently tiptoed back to the stairs, went all the way down, then retraced her path to his door, making each step count, loud and exaggerated. Swallowing a hard lump, she rested the tray on a forearm and turned the doorknob. “I brought your supper,” she said, pushing the door ajar.

  “Hey,” he said with a smile as she entered. He then winced as he sat up. “Smells great. What is it?”

  “Ham and potato chowder.”

  “Mmm. You’ve been knocking yourself out downstairs, haven’t you? You don’t need to do that, you know. You can go home if you want.”

  There it was—his attempt to casually dismiss her so that Candace could come over. As she lowered the tray onto his lap, she was tempted to feign losing her balance and then dump the contents all over him. But a voice in her head told her how un-Christlike that would be, and so she resisted.

  She glanced down and noticed the pool of water and the empty glass on the floor.

  “Oh, sorry about that. I spilled.” He sounded strangely like Meagan in his admission.

  “No problem,” she said, turning. “I’ll go get a towel.”

  “No, wait.” She paused in mid stride.
He waved a hand at her and patted an empty space on the bed. “Why don’t you keep me company?”

  “Hmm?”

  “Here, sit.” He shifted his body a couple of inches, so she slowly advanced. “I’m not contagious, you know.” Her volatile emotions made it hard for her to keep from screaming. Hadn’t he just told her to go home? Men! Why did God have to make them so altogether impossible to figure out?

  She lowered herself carefully onto the bed as he slurped a spoonful of hot chowder and sighed happily. “This is delicious. What’s in it?”

  “Ham and potatoes.”

  “I guessed that much, silly. What else?”

  “Let’s see…onions, celery, milk, flour, bouillon, salt, pepper, and, well, that’s about it. Do you want the recipe?”

  “Do I need it?” he asked, arching one eyebrow.

  “I suppose if you want more potato and ham chowder, you do,” she said with an edge to her voice.

  They stared at each other for half a minute, he chewing, she clasping her hands and squeezing the blood out of her knuckles.

  “How come you’re not joining me?”

  “I sampled enough to equal a meal,” she replied.

  “Gotcha. I do that when I make macaroni and cheese from the box, one of my staples. By the time it’s ready for the bowl, I’ve already eaten almost every last noodle straight from the pan.” He chuckled, but his attempt at humor fell flat for her. Did he plan to break it to her about Candace or not? She had half a mind to ask him. Instead, she glanced down at the puddle of water.

  “Did you know there is nothing on daytime television but soap operas, cartoons, and home decorating shows?” he asked.

  “Is that so? I only watch Sesame Street.”

  “What’s an invalid like me supposed to do with himself? And don’t tell me to read.” He pointed at his beautiful, brown eyes; the left one had swollen shut, and the right one was puffy and bruised, having been smashed with his handlebars. He’d been wearing a helmet, but it had done little to protect his face.