One Perfect Spring

by Irene Hannon

  Kind of like the way she’d handled the events that had gotten her into a mess twenty-two years ago.

  She paused beside the table, pulling the protective mitts from her fingers. Like the hot casserole, her story had the power to burn. That’s why she’d avoided telling it. Only a few people were privy to her secret. Father Ryan. Her dearest friend, now gone. Claire. Each time she’d shared it, she’d worried about being judged. Instead, each friend had validated her trust in them by treating her with love and compassion.

  David had earned her trust too, despite their short acquaintance. The man radiated kindness and integrity. And if they did end up becoming a couple, she wanted no secrets between them. It was time he knew the full story, not just the outcome. And no matter what happened between them as a result, he’d respect her confidence.

  Until now, Keith hadn’t been on her confidante list. But perhaps, if he had a troubling adoption history, her story would help him understand how mistakes could be made even by people who otherwise led exemplary lives.

  “I’m starving!” Haley burst through the door, empty plate in hand.

  “Did you see the deer?” Maureen tucked the insulated mitts back into their drawer.

  “No. I think maybe they saw me and got scared.”

  Very possible. Fear was a powerful motivator. It was often easier to hide in the shadows than face danger.

  For deer . . . and for people.

  So as Haley and Claire joined hands with her at the table for the blessing, she added a silent prayer of her own—for the courage to tell her story to the two new men in her life . . . and to do it sooner rather than later.

  “Hey! Watch the drips!”

  At Keith’s warning, Claire glanced down from her perch on the ladder. He’d stopped rolling the wall below her to wipe a large drop of paint off his arm.

  “I thought genies repelled . . .” She stopped. Cocked her head. “Was that the doorbell?”

  “Don’t ask me.” Keith finished wiping off the pink spot. “I can’t hear a thing with the music cranked up so loud.”

  “Haley.”

  No response.

  She increased her volume. “Haley!”

  A blonde head popped up from behind the plastic-draped furniture. “Yeah?”

  “Turn off the CD.”

  Her daughter moved over to the portable player, and the room went silent.

  A moment later the doorbell rang.

  “I’ll get it.” Haley jogged toward the hall.

  “Check to see who’s there before you open the door.”

  “I will.” Her muffled voice drifted back.

  “Beat you.” Keith finished rolling the last wall, a full hour ahead of schedule.

  She made a face at him. “Edging is harder.”

  “Ha. Rolling takes a lot more effort and—”

  “Cap!” Haley’s squeal bounced off the walls.

  Claire’s eyes widened. “What in the world . . .” She descended the shaky ladder as fast as she dared.

  “Who’s Cap?”

  “My dad.”

  She took off for the front door at a jog.

  Sure enough, her father was standing in her foyer, an overnight bag on the floor beside him, hugging Haley. He grinned at her when she appeared.

  “Surprise!”

  She gaped at him. “What are you doing here?”

  “I told you to keep your eye out for a surprise, didn’t I?”

  “Yes, but . . . I was expecting a package in the mail.”

  He chuckled. “A surprise is supposed to be something unexpected. So I guess I succeeded. Now are you going to stand there all day with your mouth open like a flounder, or are you going to give your old man a hug?”

  She didn’t need a second invitation. Throat constricting, she flew into his arms.

  “That’s more like it.” He held her tight, just the way he had since she’d been a little girl, his arms as strong and comforting as she remembered. “This is why a man travels halfway across the country.” His words came out hoarse beside her ear.

  When he finally released her, she stepped back and looked him over. Not much had changed since their last visit. Same unruly gray hair that was always a tad too long, same twinkling blue eyes, same ready smile, same lean, wiry build. The crevices on his face were deeper than they’d been a year ago, the tanned skin more weathered, but overall he appeared fit and vigorous.

  Thank you, God.

  “It’s so good to see you.” Her own voice choked.

  He patted her shoulder, his other hand still holding Haley close. “It’s good to see you too. Since you wouldn’t commit to making a trip out my way, I took the first opportunity I had to come visit my two favorite ladies.”

  “You didn’t drive, did you?”

  “No. I didn’t have that much time. Business is picking up for the season. I took off for the weekend, but I’ve got charters every day next week.”

  “Did you fly, Cap?” Haley looked up at him.

  Claire frowned. He couldn’t afford that. If he’d shelled out big bucks for a ticket, he’d be eating macaroni and cheese for weeks. She should have told him they’d come out to visit this summer, found some way to scrape up the gas money and . . .

  “Hey.” He smoothed out her brow with a gentle touch, just as he had when she’d gotten her britches tied up in knots over some inconsequential thing as a youngster. “I didn’t break the bank to do this.”

  “What does that mean?” Haley sent him a confused look.

  “It means I got a free ride—literally. I had a local charter customer last month who happens to be a pilot, and he has clients in the Midwest. When I mentioned I had family in St. Louis, he said if I ever wanted to hitch a ride with him, just pick up the phone. So I did. He’s in town for some kind of charity thing tonight and lunch with clients tomorrow, then we head home. I guess you could say I’ve officially become a jet-setter.”

  Claire sent him a dismayed look. “Does that mean we only get the pleasure of your company for twenty-four hours?”

  “More like twenty-seven—and I intend to make the most of them. Except . . .” He gave them both an inspection. “You two look like you’re in the middle of a painting project.”

  “We’re making my bedroom pink. Wanna see?” Haley took his hand and tugged him toward the hall.

  He started to follow . . . but came to an abrupt halt as Keith stepped into the foyer.

  Good heavens! Claire clapped a hand to her mouth. She’d totally forgotten about him!

  “Dad.” She moved beside her father. “Let me introduce Keith Watson. He’s the . . . he’s my . . . he’s, uh, helping us paint Haley’s room.” Heat flamed in her cheeks. “Keith, this is my father, Frank Flynn.”

  After the two men shook hands and exchanged greetings, Keith looked at her. “I’ll clean up the pans and rollers and get out of your hair so you can enjoy your visit.”

  “Don’t leave on my account. I’m the one who dropped in uninvited.” Her father turned to her. “Why don’t you round up a brush for me and I’ll pitch in?”

  “We’re almost done. Besides, I want to visit with you, not paint.” Out of the corner of her eye she saw Keith disappear down the hall.

  Her father leaned closer and lowered his voice. “Am I interrupting anything?”

  She tucked her arm in his. “No. Keith was only planning to stay until noon, and we really were wrapping things up.”

  “In that case, I won’t feel guilty. But I am curious.”

  No surprise there. Before her dad’s visit ended, there’d be lots of questions . . . unless she stuck close to Haley. He wouldn’t probe too much in front of his granddaughter.

  That plan worked fine all afternoon and evening. They gave him a tour of the house, introduced him to Maureen, ate grilled burgers on the deck after she delineated the safe areas, and capped off the day by going out for ice cream.

  But after they both kissed Haley good night and returned to the kitchen, he pounced on the
topic she’d been dreading.

  “So tell me about your painting buddy.” He helped himself to a soft drink. “Haley is certainly taken with him.”

  Might as well face the inquisition.

  She grabbed a Coke, opened the kitchen window, and joined him at the table. “Warm night.”

  “Very pleasant.” He sipped his drink, watching her. Waiting.

  She gave him the condensed version of how they’d met, downplaying any suggestion of a relationship.

  Except he didn’t buy it.

  “Come on, sweetie. This is your father here. I’ve known you for thirty-two years. Seems to me you’ve finally decided to throw your line in and do a little fishing—and I approve. That young man made a very nice first impression.”

  She swiped up a stray drop of mustard left from their dinner, the cheerful hue reminding her of Haley’s comment about Keith brightening up their house.

  “I wouldn’t go that far. Fishing is proactive, and Keith just showed up. I’m going with the flow but not making any special effort.”

  “Is that right?” His eyes twinkled as he took a swig of soda. “You always wear such nice clothes and fix up your hair and put on eye shadow when you paint?”

  She was busted.

  “Okay, so I like him. But we met less than a month ago, and I’m not going to let myself get carried away. Fool me once and all that.”

  “Caution is fine—as long as you don’t let it paralyze you.” He surveyed the kitchen. “Though I must say, a bit more caution in house-hunting might have been prudent. This place needs a lot of sprucing up.”

  “The price was right, though.”

  “I like bargains myself. Still . . . you think you might have taken on a little too much?”

  “No. I can make this work, Dad.”

  He covered her hand with his. “I know that. You can do anything you set your mind to, and don’t you ever doubt that. I just wish things had been easier for you. And I wish I could help you out with a few bucks now and then. That deck out there is downright dangerous.”

  “We don’t use it much.”

  “I’m glad to hear that.”

  “As for finances, we’re doing okay. I have a to-do list, and I’m working my way through it item by item.” Of course, every time she crossed one repair job off, two others appeared—but there was no reason to mention that. “And the house has wonderful potential.”

  “I can see that. The basic construction appears to be sound, and the neighborhood is very nice. That lilac bush on the side is a beauty too.” He angled his head toward the open window and sniffed. “I can smell it all the way in here. Reminds me of your mom.”

  “Yeah?” She took a sip of soda. “How come?”

  “She was always partial to them.”

  “Really? She never told me that. Why didn’t we plant one in our yard?”

  “They won’t flower in Charleston. We tried transplanting some cuttings from her parents’ house after we got married, but turns out they need a long period of winter chill in order to bloom.” He leaned back in his chair, his expression thoughtful as he looked at her. “Sometimes that’s true for people too.”

  She traced a trail of condensation down the side of her can. “And sometimes it isn’t. Sometimes winter kills instead.”

  “That’s the pessimist’s view. I like to believe winter makes us more appreciative of—and ready for—spring. Seeing Keith here today gives me hope that spring might be just around the corner in your part of the world . . . in more ways than one.” A breeze wafted through the room from the open window, and he sniffed again. “Smells like a piece of heaven, doesn’t it?”

  Claire inhaled. “Yeah, it does. Life’s been so busy I’ve never paid much attention to that bush.”

  “You should go over there at least once a day and take a whiff while it’s at the peak of bloom. I can’t say I’ve ever seen a lilac that laden with blossoms. Mother Nature orchestrated the seasons perfectly to produce what your mom would have called a lilac spring.”

  “Lilac spring. That has a nice sound to it.”

  “Yes, it does.” He finished off his soda and stood. “Now this old jet-setter is going to put his weary bones to bed. What time are services at your church tomorrow?”

  “Nine and eleven.” No need to tell him she wasn’t always diligent about attending. That was between her and God. Besides, maybe her father’s visit would be the impetus she needed to prod her back into the habit of weekly attendance.

  “Let’s make it nine. That will give us a few more hours together afterward.”

  “Works for me. Are you sure you’ll be okay on the sleeper sofa? Haley and I don’t mind giving you the bedroom.”

  “I wouldn’t think of putting you out of your bed. I’ll be fine.” He leaned down and kissed her forehead. “Good night, sweetie.”

  “’Night, Dad.”

  While he got ready for bed, she made up the sofa bed for him. Then she tidied up the kitchen.

  The last thing she did was close the window. But before she lowered it, she took another whiff of the sweet fragrance.

  Lilac spring.

  A soft smile played at the corners of her mouth. Wouldn’t it be nice if her dad was right? If a long, cold winter could lead to abundance in the spring—for both lilacs and people?

  It was something to hope for, anyway.

  14

  As the doorbell chimed, Maureen took a steadying breath. Prayer had led her to this moment, and she would not let second thoughts undermine her resolve. God would see her through—whatever the outcome.

  She rose and summoned up a smile for Keith. “Excuse me while I get that.”

  “If you’re expecting company, I could finish my update by phone later. I was about done, anyway.”

  “No—that’s okay. Besides, I had one other thing I wanted to talk to you about, if you can spare a few more minutes.”

  He shrugged. “Sure.”

  Smoothing a hand down her skirt, she walked to the door and pulled it open.

  David turned from perusing his assistant’s car. “Is Keith here?”

  “Yes. He was giving me an update, but we were just finishing.” She managed to hold onto her tremulous smile. “I appreciate you coming a little early.”

  “It was my pleasure.” He gave her a discreet but appreciative scan and dropped his voice. “You look very lovely today.”

  “Thank you.” The linen skirt and crisp blouse had been a smart choice. The attire for his grandson’s birthday party might be casual, but David could have stepped out of the pages of GQ. No jeans for this guy. Razor-creased slacks, open-necked shirt, summer blazer that set well on his broad shoulders.

  Talk about distinguished looking.

  Plus, the man had the physique of someone half his age.

  Their gazes met, and she got lost in the blue of his eyes.

  Only when the sound of a throat being cleared finally penetrated her consciousness did she remember her other guest.

  She turned. Surprise lurked in the depths of Keith’s eyes as his gaze darted from her to David.

  “I, uh, should probably be going. David.” He acknowledged the other man with a cautious nod from across the foyer.

  “Actually . . . I hope you’ll stay a few more minutes.” She tightened her grip on the knob. “There’s something I’d like to share with the two of you.”

  They gave her an inquisitive look, but David spoke first as he moved into the house. “I’m sure we’d both like to hear whatever you have to say.”

  Since that didn’t leave Keith much choice, he followed his boss back to the living room and retook his seat.

  After both declined her offer of a beverage, she perched on the edge of the upholstered chair by the fireplace. It would have been so much more comforting to sit beside David on the couch—but leaving some space between them would allow her to better observe the reactions of the two men.

  She cleared her throat. “Given all you’ve both done for me, I felt
I owed you a few more details of my story . . . including how I got myself into the predicament that precipitated the adoption.”

  David gave a firm shake of his head. “That’s not necessary, Maureen. We intend to see this through no matter what.”

  “I know that. And I’m grateful. But I’d like to share this with you—and I feel confident, after getting to know you both over these past few weeks, that you’ll respect my privacy and keep it to yourselves.”

  “Of course.” There was no hesitation in David’s response.

  Keith shifted in his seat. “You really don’t have to share those kinds of private details with me if you’d rather not.”

  “I want to.” Maureen locked gazes with him. “It would be a favor to me if you’d stay and listen. It’s time this story was told—at least to trusted friends.”

  A flicker of surprise—and pleasure?—softened his eyes, and he dipped his head in assent. “All right.”

  Her pulse picked up.

  The time had come.

  Folding her hands in her lap, she took a steadying breath. “I’m sure you’ve both wondered how a professor at a Christian college managed to find herself pregnant at the mature age of thirty-eight. And it’s a valid question. Why did I violate the moral laws I believed in and encouraged my students to follow?”

  “Can I say something before you continue?” David locked gazes with her.

  Her heart tripped, and she braced herself. “Yes.”

  “Nothing you tell us will change my opinion about you. What happened twenty-two years ago is ancient history. I don’t think one mistake, or even sin if you will, should condemn a person for life. We’d all be in sad shape if that was the case. Lives should be judged as a whole, not by isolated incidents.”

  She exhaled. “Thank you for that.”

  Knitting her fingers into a tight knot, she plunged in. “It happened in Italy. I’d always wanted to see in person the art I knew only through books or reproductions. I spent a week on my own in each of three cities. Venice was my last stop. I’d just arrived, and was eating dinner at a sidewalk café. There was another American there, a handsome, sophisticated-looking man. I guess he heard me speaking English to the waiter, and as I finished my meal, he came over and asked if he could join me for dessert.”