One Perfect Spring

by Irene Hannon

  25

  “I think the youngest member of our group has called it a night.” David gestured to four-year-old Bobby, out cold in the corner of Claire’s living room where he’d sprawled on the floor to play with his LEGOs.

  Debbie glanced at her watch and stood. “That’s the one downside to having young children. Late night parties won’t be on our social calendar for a few years yet.”

  “But these two munchkins are well worth the sacrifice.” Shawn rose too, and scooped up his son. “Could you gather up the LEGOs, Grace?”

  The little girl trotted over and started collecting them.

  “I’ll help.” Haley followed her, the two girls chattering away, just as they had all evening.

  From her seat beside David on the couch, Maureen surveyed the group that had gathered to celebrate her sixtieth birthday—a milestone she’d expected to mark much more quietly . . . and alone.

  Until Claire and Haley and Keith and David and a whole cast of multigenerational characters had become part of her world.

  This was the kind of family gathering she’d yearned to be part of all her adult life—and it was a treasure beyond price.

  The presents she’d received tonight were treasures too. The painstakingly hand-drawn cards from the children. The homemade book of coupons from Claire for odd jobs, from weeding gardens to grass cutting to home-cooked meals, offering the precious gift of time that was already in such short supply in her young neighbor’s busy life. The soft-as-a-cloud cashmere sweater from Keith that matched her eyes. A full day of pampering at a spa from Debbie and her husband. A gold Tiffany heart necklace from David.

  Still, the chance to be part of a family celebration like this—that was the best gift of all.

  “Shall we take our leave too?” David spoke close to her ear.

  “Yes. I’m as ready as your grandson to call it a night.”

  “May I walk you home?”

  She smiled into the warm blue eyes that had become so dear to her. “I was counting on it.”

  His fingers found hers and gave them a squeeze.

  In the flurry of good-byes, she managed to draw Claire aside for a moment. “I can’t thank you enough for this lovely evening. I’ll cherish the memory always.”

  A flush of pleasure tinted her friend’s cheeks. “I wish it could have been fancier. Filet mignon instead of pork steaks.”

  “The meal was perfect—and all homemade. I know how many hours it took you to prepare for this party, and that labor of love means more to me than filet mignon any day.”

  “Nothing is work when it’s done with love.”

  “Thank you for that.” Eyes misting, Maureen pulled her into a hug. “Why don’t you let me stay and help with the cleanup? Many hands, you know.”

  “Absolutely not! It’s your birthday.”

  Keith moved beside her and winked. “I volunteered for KP, so you’re off the hook.”

  “In that case . . . I’ll say good night. And thank you again—both of you—for everything you did to give me the best birthday I’ve had in forty years.”

  She joined David at the door, and after another round of good nights, he tucked her arm in his and led her across the lawn toward her house.

  “That was a lot of fun.” He squeezed her fingers. “Much more relaxed than the last family gathering for Bobby’s birthday.”

  “I thought that one turned out fine too, once we got over the initial awkwardness.”

  “You mean resentment.”

  She shrugged and dug her key out of her purse. “Whatever it was, it’s evaporating. I never expected such a personal and caring gift from Debbie and Shawn. Did you know about it?”

  “Yes.” He turned the knob after she twisted her key. “She called to run the idea by me. She said after all you’d been through with the cancer treatments, you might find it relaxing. I approved—and commended her on her thoughtfulness.”

  “She’s a lovely young woman. I hope, over time, we can become friends.”

  “Trust me, you’re well on your way toward that goal. I think you won her over when you salvaged Bobby’s birthday dinner without making her feel like a complete failure in the kitchen.” He propped a shoulder against the door. “Are you going to invite me in?”

  In answer, she took his hand, tugging him along as she crossed the threshold.

  His deep chuckle followed her.

  “Would you like any more coffee?”

  “If I drink another cup, I’ll float home. Why don’t we just sit for a few minutes?”

  “That sounds perfect. And I’m ditching these heels too. Vanity and my protesting toes have been slugging it out all night, and my toes finally won.”

  She stepped out of them, then sat on the couch.

  He joined her—close, but not too close.

  Hmm.

  Some interesting vibes were wafting her way.

  “That necklace looks very nice on you.” He perused the heart on the gold chain clasped around her neck.

  She fingered it. “I’ve never had anything from Tiffany’s before. You’re going to spoil me.”

  “I hope so. In fact, I have something else for you—also from Tiffany’s.” He reached into the pocket of his jacket and withdrew another robin’s-egg-blue box tied with a white bow.

  It was smaller than the first one.

  Ring sized.

  Her breath stalled in her lungs.

  Dragging her gaze away from the box, she searched his face.

  The smile he gave her seemed a little shaky. “It’s exactly what you think it is.”

  “But . . .” She looked down at the box again. Back at him. “We only met a few weeks ago.”

  “I know. And I’m not an impulsive man. But I am a decisive one, and at this stage of my life I know my mind.” He shifted toward her and took her hand. “I also recognize a gift from God when I see it. From the day I walked into your office, I knew you were special. Every minute I’ve spent with you since has confirmed that impression.”

  He paused and examined their entwined fingers. “The truth is, I never expected to love again. To find someone to love again. Nor did I have any intention of looking. One happy marriage in a lifetime seemed blessing enough, and I was resigned to spending my remaining years alone. Yet the good Lord apparently had other ideas.” His Adam’s apple bobbed, and his gaze met hers. “I love you, Professor Chandler, and I would be honored if you would be my wife.”

  As the words she’d given up hope of ever hearing resonated in the room—and in her heart—every nerve in her body began to vibrate.

  At sixty years of age, she’d received her first marriage proposal.

  It was surreal.

  Incredible.

  Exhilarating.

  She struggled to breathe. To speak. “This is . . . it’s the most amazing moment of my life.”

  “Is that a yes?”

  She tried to sort through her jumbled thoughts. To think as well as feel.

  It wasn’t easy.

  “I do want to marry you.” That much she knew—without a doubt.

  Faint grooves dented his forehead, and he tipped his head. “I sense a ‘but’ in there.”

  “There is one—but it doesn’t have anything to do with you or with my feelings.” She spoke slowly, still trying to organize her thinking. “I’ve just had a bout with cancer, David.”

  “And the treatment appears to have been successful.”

  “I won’t know that for sure for five years.”

  “I’m not waiting five years.” His jaw tightened, as did his grip on her fingers. “Look, I recognize there’s risk. I get that. But here’s the thing—it doesn’t matter to me. I want you in my life, as my wife, for as long as God blesses me with your presence, whether that’s months or years or decades.”

  A tear leaked out of her eye, and she swiped it away. “I love you for saying that.”

  “I mean every word.”

  “I know you do.” She touched the unopened box in his
hand. “I just don’t want you to end up losing two wives within a few years.”

  “Is there something you haven’t told me?” The creases on his brow deepened, and a note of alarm sharpened his tone.

  She lifted her hand and touched his cheek. “No. The last scan was fine. I’m hoping and praying the next one will be too. But for my own peace of mind, I’d rather wait until then to make plans.”

  “When is it?”

  “Four months. September.”

  He gave an impatient shake of his head. “That’s too long. Besides, no matter what the scan shows, do you really think I’d walk away at this point? I’m in for the duration . . . whether we’re married or not.”

  A rush of tenderness tightened her throat. What had she done to deserve such a man?

  As the warmth of his fingers seeped into hers, she fought down the selfish impulse to capitulate. “In fairness to you, though, I’d like to have a little more assurance the duration will be longer rather than shorter.”

  A shadow swept across his face. “Life doesn’t offer those kinds of guarantees—with or without cancer.”

  She couldn’t argue with that. That painful lesson was one they’d both learned.

  “David.” She touched his arm, trying another tack. “It’s only been a year since my diagnosis. Give me these four months. If I marry you now, I’ll just worry until the next test—and I don’t want worry to be part of our honeymoon if it doesn’t have to be.”

  He studied her in silence for a long moment. “You feel strongly about this, don’t you?”

  “Yes.”

  He weighed the box in his hand. Exhaled. “Okay. Here’s my counter offer. The engagement is official as of today. We wait for the scan to get married. But no matter the outcome, the ceremony takes place two weeks later. Deal?” He held out the box.

  Her eyes misted. It was one thing to take a vow about sickness and health when illness was some vague possibility on a distant horizon. It was another thing entirely when that possibility was a mere whisper away—and would be for several years to come. Yet this man, who’d already lost one wife in the recent past, was willing to take that risk. Insisted on taking it, despite the very real concerns she’d voiced.

  His persistence spoke volumes about the depth of his love—and chased away the last of her doubts.

  She took the box. “Deal.”

  The tension in his face evaporated. “Man. That was more stressful than any boardroom deal I ever brokered.” He released an unsteady breath and gestured to the box. “Go ahead . . . open it.”

  Fingers trembling, she tugged off the ribbon and flipped up the lid of the velvet-covered case inside the classic Tiffany box. A huge, square diamond with a triangular stone on either side winked back at her.

  “Oh my.” Her awed words were more breath than sound.

  “This is . . . it’s too much.”

  He took her hand, forcing her to look over at him. “It’s not too much. You’ve waited a long time for this ring, and you deserve a knockout.”

  “This certainly qualifies.”

  He pulled it from its velvet nest and slipped it on her finger, his touch gentle yet sure. “I love you, Maureen . . . and I’ll be counting the days—no, make that the hours—until we say I do. But I intend to start laying the groundwork right now for that honeymoon you mentioned. Any objections?”

  Joy bubbled up inside her, sending a delicious tingle to every nerve ending. “Not a one.”

  His smile was slow and warm as he pulled her close, this man who’d come so unexpectedly into her life, brightening her world with laughter and joy and love. And as he claimed her lips in a loving kiss that told her just how much he cherished her, her heart rejoiced.

  For God had, indeed, saved the best for last.

  “She’s finally settled down.” Claire reentered the kitchen to find Keith emptying the dishwasher. “You don’t have to do that.”

  “I don’t mind. You put the whole party together and did all the cooking. So Haley didn’t want to go to bed, huh?”

  “No way, no how. Between all the new people she met and giggling with Grace all evening and ingesting too much sugar, I was afraid she’d be bouncing off the walls until midnight.” She clapped a hand over her sudden yawn and sent him an apologetic look. “Sorry. It’s not the company.”

  “Lucky thing I’m not the sensitive type.” He stowed the last plate and turned to her. “I should go home so you can get some sleep. Didn’t you say you were going to an early service tomorrow?”

  “Yes. They’re having a children’s program afterward, and I’d like Haley to get more involved with the youth group. You’re welcome to join us.”

  “I would . . . except I told my mom I’d take her to the late service.”

  He was following through on his pledge to get back on track with God, just as she was.

  One more check in his pro column.

  “Looks like two lost sheep are heading back to the fold.”

  “Not lost as much as distracted.” He draped the dish towel over the sink and took her hand. “Walk me out?”

  “Sure.”

  When they reached the front door, he moved aside to let her precede him. As he joined her on the porch, she motioned toward Maureen’s driveway. “The birthday girl still has company.”

  “Strange how her whole adoption quest turned out, isn’t it?”

  “Strange but good.”

  He grew quiet as they ambled down the driveway to his car. All evening he’d been more subdued than usual . . . and she knew why. But she hadn’t had a minute alone with him until now to ask about the latest with his birth mother.

  “Did you finalize all the arrangements for Kansas City?” She stopped beside the Infiniti, mere inches separating them. Storm clouds had gathered, darkening the night and throwing his features into shadow, but she could feel his tension.

  “Yes. My birth mother returned my call right before I came over tonight. Our meeting is set for three o’clock on Wednesday at the hotel coffee shop. I’ll drive home after we’re finished.”

  “When do you leave?”

  “First thing Monday morning.”

  “I’ll be thinking about you—and praying.”

  “I appreciate both.”

  “If you want to talk after you see her, I’ll keep my cell phone handy.”

  “I may take you up on that. On the other hand, I might need every minute of the four-hour drive to sort things out.”

  She stepped closer, until his arms came around her. “I have a feeling it’s going to go well.”

  “I hope so. To be honest, though, I’m not certain how to define ‘well.’”

  “God does. That’s all that matters. Now . . . could you use a hug?”

  Instead of replying, he pulled her tight against him and buried his face in her hair. The embrace was about comfort, not romance. So was the kiss they shared before he drove off. Both were filled with need, as if he was trying to draw strength and courage from her.

  And that was okay.

  Because as she watched his taillights disappear, as a low, ominous rumble of thunder reverberated in the distance, she had a feeling he would need mega doses of both as he prepared to confront the woman who’d given birth to him—and to face the past that had haunted him for thirty long years.

  26

  Keith saw her across the hotel lobby before she saw him. Even if Laura Matthews hadn’t told him she’d be wearing a blue shirt, he’d have known it was her.

  They shared the same profile.

  It was . . . bizarre.

  For an instant, his courage wavered. Walking away would be so much easier.

  But he hadn’t come this far to back down.

  He had to see this through.

  Straightening his shoulders, he stepped out from behind the pillar near the elevators and crossed the lobby toward her.

  She spotted him at once. Her eyes widened, and she groped for the hand of the man beside her.

  Keith�
�s step faltered as they both rose.

  He didn’t want an audience for this reunion—and she’d said nothing about bringing her husband along.

  As if sensing his urge to bolt, the woman hurried toward him, tugging the man along with her.

  No escape now.

  She stopped a few feet away, and for a long moment they assessed each other in silence.

  Given her sordid background, Laura Matthews wasn’t at all what he’d expected. She looked the way she’d sounded on the phone.

  Normal.

  Like any suburban mother who drove carpools and took kids to soccer matches.

  She was dressed modestly, in a khaki skirt and knit top, her dark hair falling in soft waves around her face until it brushed her shoulders. She didn’t appear to have applied much makeup beyond lipstick and perhaps a touch of mascara. Slender and on the short side, she wore flats instead of the spikes he’d half expected, and her manner was discreet and quiet rather than loud and flashy.

  The man beside her came across as normal too. About five-nine, wearing dress slacks and a golf shirt, he had short hair that was more pepper than salt. His kindly face was creased with concern as he draped his arm around his wife’s shoulders and gave her a gentle hug.

  They seemed to be an average, middle-aged couple.

  But how could a guy who was normal marry a woman like his birth mother, after all the seedy stuff she’d done?

  And what had happened to bring about such a dramatic transformation in her life?

  “I can see you have a lot of questions. And I’ll do my best to answer them.” As the woman across from him uttered the shaky words, she attempted a smile. Failed. “I’m Laura—and I’m so grateful to meet you at last.” She held out her hand.

  He looked down at her slender fingers. They were trembling.

  The temptation to ignore her gesture of greeting was strong, but in the end good manners trumped his personal feelings . . . though he didn’t return the sentiment.

  Her fingers were like ice as his closed over them.

  At least he wasn’t the only one stressing out over this meeting.

  “This is my husband, Dennis.” She indicated the man beside her.

  Keith shook his hand too. It was rock solid.