It’s the only way.
OK, Lord. I trust You. I can do it, through You.
Dropping the tape measure back to the ground, he walked toward her. No time like the present to get started. The sooner things were in motion, the faster he could square things with Amy. He tucked his hand under her elbow and gently guided her toward the porch.
To her credit, Amy didn’t argue. She simply followed his lead and sat with him on the cement steps.
His heart thumped with nerves as he wondered how she would respond.
Trust me.
Eyes wide with curiosity, Amy searched his face. “Did you want to talk about something?”
He nodded his mouth suddenly dry. “Bradley.”
Amy’s mouth tightened.
“No, you don’t understand,” Quentin said in a rush. “I need you to call him for me. Set up a meeting so I can look at his artwork and we can talk about the mural. See if he’s interested.”
Amy’s smile was instant, and he longed to trace it with his fingertips. But before he could act on his impulse, she acted on one of her own. She threw her arms around him, throwing him momentarily off balance. As he struggled to keep from falling backward, he squeezed her tight. It felt so natural, so right. He didn’t want to let her go.
“Quentin, this is the absolute best news you could give me! How? Why?”
“The Lord, Amy. With a little help from you along the way, constantly pricking at my conscience about forgiveness. You’re so right. I’m a Christian. How can I hold a grudge against a teenager who’s trying to straighten out his life? It is about forgiveness, second chances. Not the past.”
Amy sucked in a breath, an odd expression on her face. Before he could question her about it she composed herself, nodded, and started to rise from the steps.
“I’ll call him right now.”
“Just a minute.” Quentin tugged her back down and her blue-jean clad leg brushed against his. “There’s more.”
“More?” Her eyes widened.
“Yes, and it concerns you.” He took her hand, so tiny, so soft and feminine, in his. “You and me.”
Amy bit her bottom lip and looked away.
“Amy.” He reached out and traced her cheek with the back of his hand, then gently pulled her chin toward him so he could see her face. “It’s time for us to talk.”
Still avoiding his eyes, she nodded.
“Tonight.”
Painfully slow, she lifted her gaze to meet his eyes. Her wounded look, mixed with hope and guilt, assaulted him. He alone was responsible for her pain. It pricked deeply into his conscience.
“Tonight?” Her whisper was one of caution. “You’re really going to tell me?”
He ached to kiss her pain away. Instead, he nodded. “Let’s get things clarified once and for all, so we can put it behind us and move forward.”
“Oh, Quentin, that’s all I want.” Amy squeezed his hand, and he pulled her against him, her head resting on his chest. He brushed his cheek against the top of her head for a minute before she looked up at him.
“Thank you,” she whispered.
Her lips were so near his, he did the only obvious thing—he dipped his mouth to hers, claiming a sweet, chaste kiss that had him longing for more.
Amy pulled away just as he started to deepen the kiss.
“What—?” Disappointed, he looked up.
“We have company.” She pointed at the corner of the house where the hydrangea bushes were rustling back and forth.
“Shayna.” He used a low, stern tone. A second later his darling daughter popped around the corner.
“Hi, Dad.” She was positively beaming.
“I hope you weren’t spying on us.”
“Oh, no, not at all.” Shayna bit her lip in what appeared to be an effort to keep from smiling. “Dad, can I cook dinner for you guys?”
“Dinner? It’s barely past lunchtime. You can’t possibly be hungry yet.”
“I know, but I want to thank Miss Welsh for taking care of Rufus. And you, too, for building him a new pen.”
“Are you sure, honey? That’s a lot of work.”
“Yes, I’m sure. I want to. Please?”
Unable to refuse his daughter when she looked so happy, Quentin turned to Amy.
“Please say yes. We’ll have our talk then.” He used the same pleading tone Shayna had, and the payoff was a shy nod from Amy.
After the pen was built and the mess cleaned up, Quentin filled the pool with cold water from the hose. Rufus waddled up the ramp and jumped in, contentedly gliding from side to side in smooth circles.
Quentin explained to Amy how important it was to make sure Rufus was safely locked in the pen each evening before dusk when the raccoons came out for the night. It wouldn’t take long for one of them to kill the duck.
Amy looked nervous.
“What if he won’t go in?”
“Don’t worry,” Quentin assured her. “Everything will be fine. Just walk behind him and he’ll go right in.”
“Dad, are you coming?” Shayna sat in the truck with the window down. “We need to go to the store to buy stuff for dinner. I want everything to be perfect.”
“In a minute.” He looked back at Amy. “I’ll see you tonight, right?”
Amy nodded. “I’ll be there.”
A sudden sense of fear squeezed Quentin’s insides. He’d tell her tonight, but what if she refused to forgive him. He didn’t want this wonderful promise of new beginnings to be forever dashed on the rocks of broken dreams.
“Quentin, what’s wrong?”
He pressed his lips together unsure what to say. How did he voice his fears without feeling and sounding like a loser?
“Come on. Tell me.”
He sighed, opened his mouth to speak, and stopped.
“What?” Amy came closer to him, concern written on her face. She touched his upper arm. He wanted to sweep her into his arms, but resisted. “Quentin, tell me, or I won’t eat with you tonight.”
“You have to. You already agreed. You don’t want to disappoint Shayna.” He placed one hand over hers, where it still rested on his arm. “Or me.”
“OK,” she said in all seriousness. “I’ll be there.”
Relieved, he nodded and started toward the truck.
“Quentin,” she said. “Don’t worry that I won’t forgive you. As long as you’re honest with me, we can overcome the past.”
“I hope you’re right, Amy,” he said to himself as he climbed into his truck. “I hope you’re right.”
Somehow, he doubted she would really forgive him when she learned the truth.
13
From the way Shayna set the picnic table, one would almost think this was a date.
Fat candles in old-fashioned jelly jars sat at either end of the table. The heat from the flames gave off a slight fragrance of cinnamon before drifting into the fresh air.
Paper plates and napkins in a deep burgundy color matched the candles and the flowered pattern in the table-cloth. A bouquet of spring flowers was arranged in a vase and a deliciously crisp looking salad sat beside it. Shayna had obviously worked hard to impress her, and it worked.
“Shayna, everything looks beautiful.”
“Thank you.” Shayna, who was still arranging food on the table, blushed.
“No, thank you. It’s been a long time since anyone has gone to so much trouble for me. Are you sure you don’t want any help?”
“No, really, Miss Welsh. I want to do this. I—”
Something was wrong. Amy’s teacher instincts were instantly alert. “What is it, Shayna?”
Shayna shook her head. “Nothing. I hope you and my dad enjoy the dinner.”
“Of course we will.” For the first time, Amy realized there were only two plates. “Aren’t you eating with us?”
“Can’t.” Shayna shook her head. “Ashley and I have plans.”
“I’m sorry to hear that.” Even though it meant she’d be alone with Quentin,
which was a nice thought, Amy was disappointed. She enjoyed being around Shayna. But her teacher’s instincts just kicked up another notch. “What are you girls going to do?”
“Nothing much.” Shayna avoided Amy’s eyes. A sure sign to beware of, Amy knew.
“Are you sure?”
Shayna looked up, a challenge in her blue eyes. “I’m not going to the drive-in again, if that’s what you mean.”
“OK.” Amy wanted to feel relieved, but there was something in Shayna’s expression that left her unsettled. “Just remember, lots of girls your age end up in unexpected circumstances when they do things that seem perfectly innocent.”
“Don’t worry about me, Miss Welsh. I know exactly what I’m doing.” Shayna’s expression changed, the challenge gone, and her eyes sparkled. “Come on, Dad,” she called. “Time to eat.”
Shayna placed a platter of hamburgers and a plate of oven-baked French fries on the picnic table.
“Something smells good.” Quentin stepped out onto the porch and planted a kiss on his daughter’s forehead. “Amy, you match the table setting.” He gave her a half-smile that set her senses skittering.
She blushed under his scrutiny, pleased he’d noticed, and glanced down at the front of her dress to make sure all the buttons were properly in place. It was a short-sleeved ivory dress with buttons from collar to hem, delicately embroidered with flowers in shades from pink to burgundy.
“Have a seat, you guys. You don’t want it to get cold.” Shayna ushered them into chairs she’d pulled outside from the dining room table. “Good night!”
Quentin reached out and grabbed her arm. “You’re not staying?” He looked disappointed.
“Ashley and I have plans.”
“Shayna.” His tone was low, authoritative.
“Don’t worry. I’ve already talked to Miss Welsh. Ashley and I are just going to watch TV, nothing more. Just the two of us. Nothing to worry about.”
Quentin looked doubtful, unsure.
“Dad, I promise. We’ll be fine and I won’t get into any trouble.”
“I don’t know...”
“Dad, please?” Shayna’s voice turned pleading. “I promise. Really and truly. We’re not going anywhere. You can even call Mrs. Morgan and ask her yourself.”
Amy watched the two of them with interest. Their affection for each other was obvious. Even if Karen were still alive, Amy suspected the bond would be deep. Shayna was her father’s little girl, and always would be, and Amy was proved right as Quentin turned to putty in his daughter’s hands.
“OK.” Quentin tried to look stern but didn’t quite make it. “Just be sure and be where you say, because I’m calling to check up on you. And there’d better be no boys over there.”
Shayna nodded, looking pleased. She turned to go.
“Shayna, one last thing.”
Rolling her eyes, but still smiling, she turned to her dad. “What?”
“Thanks for tonight. It’s really special.”
“Yes,” Amy added. “Thank you.”
If possible, Shayna’s smile widened as she disappeared through the doorway.
“It looks to me like we’ve been set up.”
Quentin looked surprised. “You think?”
“Oh, come on. Quentin, it’s obvious.”
“Yeah, I guess it is. I had no idea my daughter was a scheming little matchmaker.”
“Now you do.”
Reaching across the table to take Amy’s hand, Quentin grinned. “She did well.”
Amy ducked her head to hide the blush burning her cheeks. She’d come to town to get Quentin out of her heart, to put the overblown teenaged infatuation out of her soul once and for all. But being reminded of him at every turn, constantly talking to him in person or on the phone—it made it harder and harder to convince herself it was merely teenaged infatuation.
Suddenly it was so clear—being thrown together with Quentin in this quest to keep Shayna on the straight and narrow. It really was God’s plan all along...His plan to get them, and keep them, together.
She wasn’t sure what to make of it. Part of her was pleased. She liked thinking Quentin was part of God’s plan for her. But she still had issues with him that she wasn’t sure she could deal with or even work out, even though she’d promised him earlier that she’d forgive him as long as he was honest. She’d prayed about it and was determined to try.
Before she could consider it further, Shayna came back through the door.
“I forgot something.” She held up a CD in one hand and a player in the other. After setting the player on the porch next to the door, she arranged the cord so it was plugged into the wall just inside the house. Then she popped the CD into the player. “Lonestar,” she said before she disappeared with a quick wave and a chirpy, “Good-bye.”
Amy raised a questioning eyebrow at Quentin.
“She asked me what kind of music you liked.”
“My tastes aren’t the same as they used to be.”
“I thought you still liked Lonestar.”
“Oh, I still do. But I’ve grown and changed. I mostly listen to Christian Contemporary. Praise music. My absolute favorites are Chris Tomlin and Josh Wilson.”
“I’ll have to check them out.”
Amy looked at him, askance.
“You mean you’ve never listened to them?”
Quentin looked sheepish.
“I listen to the ‘oldies’ station. I’m listening to the same radio station we did when we were teenagers.”
“It hasn’t changed in all these years?”
“Actually, it did for a while. When I first came back from the navy, they were playing disco.”
Amy winced.
“Then they switched to that loud stuff Shayna likes.”
She made a face and Quentin laughed. It was so nice to see him laugh. She loved the way his eyes crinkled, loved the curve of his mouth, and loved...him.
It wasn’t just a teenaged infatuation she’d never gotten over. She loved him.
Amy had no choice but to keep quiet while she ate her dinner. The thoughts swirled fast and furious through her mind, and silence was the only way she could keep up with them. Quentin, bless his heart, didn’t try to make conversation. It was almost as if he knew she needed to be alone with her thoughts.
But as soon as she put the napkin in her plate, he took her by surprise.
“Dance with me, Amy?” He stood and held his hand out to her. A song about honesty was just beginning to play. Amy recognized the first few words in the song and really didn’t feel comfortable even listening to it, considering what tonight was really all about.
“Quentin, I—”
“Shh. Just give me this one dance before I say what I have to say. Give me this one thing, OK?”
He still expected her to not forgive him. She’d show him. The Lord was working in her heart. No matter what he said, she’d forgive him. Resting her head against his chest, she allowed herself to be swept away.
It felt so heavenly in his arms; memories of the past paled by comparison. She didn’t want the song to end. She was afraid. Whatever Quentin had to confess was big enough for him to worry she’d think it unforgivable. And though she’d promised him she could forgive anything as long as he was honest, could she really?
“Mmm, this is nice.” Quentin’s whisper was a deep rumble in her ear and tickled her senses.
“It is,” she agreed. On the CD player, the last strains of the song faded away.
“I hate to end it, but we need to get some things out of the way. Then, if you’re willing, we can continue.”
She nodded, not able to vocally confirm she’d be willing when she was terrified of what he would say and how she might react.
“Amy, this is hard for me.”
“Me, too,” she whispered. “But I need you to tell me. You need you to tell me.” Absently, she tugged at her pearl necklace. Its smoothness soothed her.
Quentin’s gaze followed her movements
and his eyes widened in surprise. “I didn’t know you still had that.”
Embarrassed, Amy tucked it back inside her dress. It bothered her that Quentin knew she still wore it. It laid her heart bare, so to speak.
“You know, I had every intention of meeting you that night. But something changed.”
“You stopped loving me.” She knew it. She’d known it all along. Hot moisture burned at the backs of her eyes. She couldn’t bear to hear him confirm it. Please, God, don’t let me cry. Not now, in front of him.
“No. Amy, no. I never stopped loving you.”
“Really?” She didn’t mean to sound so sarcastic, but she just didn’t believe him.
“Really.” Quentin’s tone was firm, certain.
“What about all those years with Karen?” How could he be with Karen if he never stopped loving her?
“Much as you don’t want to know this, I did love Karen.”
Amy looked away. He was right. She didn’t want to know this, didn’t want to hear it.
“But I loved you, too. I’ve never stopped. I still—” He reached for her hand. He covered it with his and traced her chin with the knuckles of his other hand.
She closed her eyes briefly, letting the feelings momentarily sweep her away. When she opened her eyes, his gaze swept from her eyes to her lips and back again.
“Quentin, I—”
“Shh, don’t say it if you don’t mean it.”
“But I do.” Her voice sounded breathy in her ears.
“Wait until I say what we both know I have to. See what you feel then.”
She looked away.
“OK?”
She nodded once, not daring to look at him for fear of getting lost in her emotions at a time when she must be strong. She could give in to nothing until she had the answers she sought. Again she reached for the necklace.
“I remember when I gave that to you. I can’t believe you still have it after all these years.” Especially after what I did to you. The words hung unspoken in the air.
“For keeps. That’s what you said, Quentin. Did you ever mean it? If you did and you meant it just now when you said you never stopped loving me, then why? Tell me why you never showed up? Why did you dump me?” Amy couldn’t control the emotion in her voice. It didn’t matter anymore. Letting Quentin know she still cared, that her life had been stagnant while his had grown and changed...she couldn’t be any more humiliated.
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