The Forgiving Hour

by Robin Lee Hatcher

  Sara placed some sweaters in the open bureau drawer. “I don’t know him. How can I tell if I like him or not?”

  Her sister-in-law chuckled. “I knew I liked your brother the second I laid eyes on him.”

  “All that does is prove you’re certifiable,” she replied, trying hard not to laugh as she met Darlene’s gaze.

  “A little bit of insanity can be a good thing. I’m still crazy about Tim.”

  Sara smiled, awash in warm, tender feelings. “I know.” She sank onto the bed next to Darlene. “You know the best part about coming home? I’ll finally feel like I’m really your sister. Yours and Fiona’s and Myrna’s. I’m glad my brothers were smart enough to marry you all.”

  “Likewise. You know—”

  “Mama!” The bedroom door burst open and a pair of auburn-haired munchkins barreled into the room. “Mama!”

  Sara couldn’t understand anything else the three-year-old twins said as they climbed onto the bed and started pouring out complaints to their mother.

  “J.J., that’s enough,” Darlene ordered firmly. “Lizzie, be quiet.” When they obeyed, she continued, “You first, J.J. Tell me what’s happened.”

  Sara left the room while the twins’ mother was still sorting things out.

  As she went down the stairs, she heard her father and brothers shouting at the television and knew they were watching either football or basketball. She veered toward the kitchen where the women had congregated. Except for the twins, her nieces and nephews were outside, enjoying the wintry sunshine.

  She’d barely had time to pull a diet soda out of the refrigerator before Myrna said, “You sure bowled over Dakota at the airport.”

  Oh, honestly.

  “I think Sara was a bit bowled over herself,” Fiona chimed in.

  “I was not.”

  Myrna and Fiona exchanged amused glances, then burst into laughter.

  Sara popped the tab on the soda as she sank onto a chair at the table across from her sisters-in-law. “Where’s Mom?”

  “Outside watching her grandkids have a snowball fight,” Fiona answered. “She’s a glutton for punishment. Never gets enough of them.”

  Myrna nudged Fiona. “Have you noticed how good Dakota is around the little ones at church? The patience of Job. Why, he’s almost a saint.” She winked at Sara. “And imagine how cute his own kids will be … once he gets married and starts a family, that is. I bet he —”

  “I am not interested.” Sara felt her cheeks growing hot. “I came back for a job, not a man. And I don’t want to hear another word about him.”

  Fortunately, the other two women backed off. Unfortunately, the image of Dakota Conway lingered in Sara’s head even after the teasing stopped.

  She had to admit, that guy would be called a hunk in any woman’s book. Well over six feet tall. Sky blue eyes. Thick blond hair, pleasantly mussed, sort of begging for a woman to smooth it with her fingertips. A slightly crooked smile that revealed a dimple in his right cheek. Sort of a combination George Strait-Brad Pitt.

  I wonder how old he is.

  She gave her head a tiny shake and forced herself to concentrate on what Fiona was saying about her son, Ron.

  “He loved kindergarten, but he’s hated first grade almost from day one. It isn’t his teacher. She’s super. But I can’t make him tell me what else it might be.”

  The topic of children filled the better portion of the next hour. Sara even managed to hear some of it, despite how frequently the image of blue eyes and a crooked smile popped into her head.

  John poked Dakota in the arm. “What’s with you this morning?”

  “What?” He dragged his gaze from the main entrance and looked at his friend.

  “Who are you expecting? The pope?”

  He shook his head. “Nobody.”

  “To paraphrase the Good Book, you won’t tell a lie to your friends. Remember?”

  “Okay already. I’m waiting for the Jenningses.”

  Bemused, “The Jenningses?”

  “You’ll know why when they get here.” He pressed his index finger against John’s chest. “And just remember that you are my friend.”

  “Huh?”

  The doors opened again, letting in a draft of cold air. Dakota turned toward them. A sense of relief swept over him when he saw Kristina and Jared Jennings step through the doorway. There was a breathless moment of anticipation, and then he saw Sara.

  She looked even more beautiful today than he’d remembered. She’d used one of those hair claw things to draw her dark winered hair away from her face. Brown shadow dusted her eyelids, a pleasant contrast to the cat green of her eyes. The smile on her bow-shaped lips was tentative, almost poignant, and altogether lovely.

  Beside him, John let out a low whistle.

  “Back off, Kreizenbeck,” Dakota said, his voice low and his meaning earnest. “I saw her first.” Then he moved toward the Jennings family, his gaze locked on Sara even while he spoke to her parents. “Good morning, Mr. and Mrs. Jennings. Good morning, Sara. Welcome to Sunrise Fellowship.”

  “Thanks.”

  “This is your first time at Sunrise, isn’t it?” There wasn’t any way in the world he would have forgotten if she’d been here before. He was sure of that.

  “Yes.”

  “I guess you haven’t made it back to Boise very often since moving to Denver.”

  “Not often.” Her gaze flicked to a place just over Dakota’s shoulder.

  He knew without looking that John was approaching and would want an introduction. Glancing to his right, he said, “Sara, this is John Kreizenbeck. John, Sara Jennings.”

  “Nice to meet you, Sara. Now I know why Dakota was waiting out here instead of getting a seat like he usually does. He’s been waiting for you.”

  I can’t kill him, Dakota reminded himself. But he was definitely going to make John pay for this.

  “Why don’t we all go in and sit down?” Kristina suggested as she took hold of her daughter’s arm. Smiling, she added, “You boys are welcome to join us if you’d like.”

  John leaned close to Dakota as the three family members headed for the door of the sanctuary. “How old do you think she is? Thirty?”

  “Who cares?”

  “She might,” John answered, then echoed Sara’s mother. “You boys.”

  “Once you’re past twenty-one, a difference in age doesn’t matter.”

  “Dream on.”

  Maybe he was dreaming. He’d never felt such a profound attraction before. Sure, she was beautiful, but it was something more than that. A connection. A tightness. Whatever it was, he wanted to explore it. He wanted to know Sara. He wanted to know the woman beneath the pretty exterior.

  “Come on,” he said to John. “Let’s get inside.”

  He made a beeline for the sanctuary, but he was already too late. Sara was seated between her mother and one of her brothers in a pew full of Jenningses. He had to be satisfied with sitting a row behind her.

  Not a bad place to be, as it turned out. During the next hour and a half, he was able to watch the way her thick, curly hair swished across her back whenever she moved her head. He was able to hear the crystal clear tone of her voice as the congregation sang songs of praise and worship. He was able to see the way she leafed through her Bible during Pastor Walt’s sermon.

  Could this be the woman You planned for me, Lord?

  Only yesterday he’d told his mother that God would work things out when he finally met the right girl. And now he wanted to hear the Lord saying, “Yes, this is the one.”

  He knew he should probably add, Your will be done and not my own, but he just couldn’t do it. Not when everything inside him wanted his own way this time around.

  TWENTY-TWO

  Claire got lost on her way to the office that first Monday in Seattle. She wasn’t used to the network of streets and freeways, the strange numbering system, the blending of one town into another. She was feeling very provincial and unsophisticated and
might have thrown up her hands and gone back to her temporary home — only she didn’t know how to find it.

  After stopping three different times to ask directions, she finally succeeded in locating the new offices of Moncur, Quade, and Associates — the Seattle satellite of Best Homes Real Estate. Jack’s partner in this venture, Kevin Quade, was waiting for her. She’d met Kevin once before, when he’d come to Boise in the early stages of forming his partnership with Jack, and she recognized him immediately.

  “I’m sorry I’m late,” she apologized after they’d reintroduced themselves. “I took a wrong turn — several, actually — and got lost.”

  “Easy to do in a strange city.”

  Claire nodded, then glanced around the lobby. Except for an L-shaped desk, a secretarial chair, and a coatrack, the area was empty.

  “As you can see,” Kevin said, “you’re starting from scratch.” He held out his arm. “Here. Let me hang up your coat. Then I’ll show you around.”

  She obliged him.

  The tour didn’t take long, but it was daunting all the same. Every room was stark and empty, awaiting Claire’s numerous decisions. Some structural changes were needed, as was new carpeting, not to mention fresh paint throughout. Furniture had to be ordered. Prints for the walls chosen. Shelves built in the storage and copy rooms. Phone system selected, computers purchased, software installed, support staff hired and trained. The list seemed endless.

  “There’s an espresso place just across the way,” Kevin said when they returned to the lobby. “Why don’t we go there? We can start making plans over coffee.”

  “All right.” It certainly sounded better to Claire than staying in this empty office where their voices echoed and she could see how much there was to be done.

  A short time later, the two of them were settled in the back of the coffee shop. Frothy mugs of cappuccino sat on the table between them.

  After stirring in three packets of sugar, Kevin took a sip. “Mmm.” It was a sound of pure pleasure. Meeting her gaze, he said, “You’ll find we appreciate our coffee here in Seattle. It’s almost a religion.” He wiped his upper lip with his napkin.

  “So I’ve heard.”

  He rested his forearms on the table, his expression suddenly serious. “You know, I didn’t properly thank you for agreeing to come to Seattle. It’s a sacrifice and a big disruption in your life, and I realize that. But Jack said he wouldn’t trust anyone but you to get it done right. He holds you in high regard.”

  Warmed by the praise, she smiled. “It’s mutual.”

  “You’ve known Jack a long time?”

  “Ever since his first date with Alana. She and I have been friends since grade school.” She lifted her cup of cappuccino. “Don’t ask me how long ago that was. Please.”

  Kevin laughed, a strong, pleasant sound.

  “How about you? How long have you known him?”

  “About eight years, I guess. We connected during the relocation of For Him Ministries. I handled the sale of homes of the employees here, and Jack sold them new ones in Boise.”

  “Oh yes. I remember. A rather strange group, as I recall.”

  “What makes you say that?”

  “Are you kidding?” It was her turn to laugh, but it wasn’t a pleasant sound as his had been. “They prayed before they sneezed, let alone before they made an offer on a house.”

  “And prayer’s a bad thing?”

  She didn’t care for the way he was watching her, his gaze kind but penetrating. “Maybe not bad. Just … unnecessary.” She looked down at the mug in her hands. “What good does it do?”

  “A great deal of good, I assure you.”

  Oh no. Not him too.

  As if reading her mind, he said, “I’m an elder in the same church many of those strange people attended when they lived here.” He sounded amused. “I’ve done my share of praying with them.”

  She couldn’t help looking up again. Shouldn’t he feel angry or insulted by what she’d said? And how had she gotten into a discussion about prayer and religion with him anyway? She knew better than that.

  “We Christians are strange, Claire. Even the Bible calls us peculiar.”

  “What?”

  “It says we’re a peculiar people, chosen to show forth the praises of God.”

  “You sound like Dakota.”

  Kevin raised an eyebrow.

  “My son.”

  “He’s a Christian?”

  “Since he was fifteen.”

  “How old is he now?”

  “Almost twenty-four.”

  “And you think he’s strange?”

  She scowled at him. “No, I do not think he’s strange.”

  Again with the lifted eyebrow.

  “All right. Maybe sometimes I do. But mostly it’s in a good way. He’s a wonderful young man. He would go out of his way to help anybody in need, whether he knew the person or not. He’s never been into drugs or alcohol. He worked hard to help put himself through school. I’m proud of the man he is.”

  “And didn’t his faith help make him who he is?”

  The question gave her pause. She supposed her son’s religious convictions had to have played a part in shaping him. And if she was so proud of him, why did she object to a faith that had helped make him who he was? She’d never looked at it quite that way before.

  “Yes,” she answered at long last. “I guess it did.”

  Kevin could see confusion swirling in Claire’s eyes, along with some other emotions he couldn’t so easily discern. Deciding it might be wise to give her a moment alone with her thoughts, he asked, “Would you like another?” He pointed to her mug.

  She shook her head without looking at him.

  Wordlessly, Kevin rose from his chair and went to the counter where he ordered one regular coffee. While he waited, he glanced over his shoulder. He was sorry that he’d been the cause of that frown furrowing Claire’s forehead. She was much prettier when she smiled. Still, he didn’t know what he could have said differently.

  By the time he returned to the table, he’d made up his mind that a change of subject was in order. As he sat down, he said, “What do you plan to do while you’re here? Besides work, that is.”

  “I don’t know. I haven’t given it any thought.” She hooked a lock of dark blond hair behind one ear. “I don’t know much about Seattle.”

  “Well, what do you do for fun in Boise? Got any hobbies?”

  “I like to garden in the summer.”

  “And?” he encouraged.

  “Just the usual. Going to movies. Reading books.” “How about the theater? I hear there’s a great performing arts center in Boise.”

  At last, her smile returned. Her dark blue eyes twinkled, and a dimple appeared in her right cheek. “Broadway musicals. I love them. I remember going to see Oklahoma and Carousel and South Pacific and Camelot with my grandmother when I was still in junior high and high school.”

  “How about newer ones like Cats?”

  “Yes, and Les Miz. I loved that one, even though it makes me cry. Oh, and I adored Joseph and the Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat. The songs are wonderful.”

  “Have you seen The Phantom of the Opera?”

  She shook her head. “It hasn’t come to Boise, but I own the original cast CD.”

  “Tell you what. I’ll check to see what’s playing in the area over the next few months. Maybe we can get tickets to a musical or two.

  Claire’s eyes revealed her surprise.

  Kevin was a bit surprised himself, and he wondered if he’d overstepped his bounds. Maybe she was seeing someone in Boise. “If you’d rather not go with me, just —”

  “No, I’d like to go …” She hesitated a moment before adding, “with you.”

  TWENTY-THREE

  Every night that week, Dakota looked up the phone number for Jared and Kristina Jennings in the church directory. And every night that week, he went to bed without dialing it. It took him until Saturday morning, a full seve
n days after meeting Sara at the airport, to work up the necessary courage to place the call.

  Someone — a female someone — answered on the fifth ring. “Hello?”

  Dakota didn’t think it sounded like her, but he hoped it was.

  “Hello,” he said. “May I speak to Sara, please?”

  He hadn’t felt this nervous since he’d asked Pamela Marker to the junior-senior prom when he was sixteen. He was surprised his voice didn’t crack.

  “I’m sorry. Sara isn’t here at the moment. May I take a message?”

  “No.” His disappointment was keen. “I’ll call back another time.”

  “Wait. Is this Dakota?”

  “Yeah, it is.”

  “Hi. It’s Myrna.”

  “Oh. Hi, Myrna.”

  “Listen, Sara’s moving into an apartment in Boise. Her brothers are loading boxes and furniture into their pickup trucks as we speak. I’ll bet they’d be glad for another strong back. If you’re not doing anything else, that is.”

  “No, I’m not doing anything else. I’d be glad to help.” Real glad. He grinned.

  “Just a second. Let me find the address. You can meet them there.” She returned to the phone a few moments later. “Here it is.” She gave him the address, followed by directions to the apartment complex near the river.

  Dakota wrote it down, then asked, “What time should I meet them there?”

  “Hmm …” She hesitated. “You know, I bet it’ll take the guys another hour before they’re all loaded up. But Sara’s at the apartment now, unpacking things she took over herself, so I guess you could go whenever it’s convenient for you.”

  “Thanks, Myrna.”

  There was a hint of laughter in her voice as she said, “No, thank you, Dakota.”

  He suspected she just might be playing matchmaker, but since she was aiding his cause, he didn’t object in the least.

  He made it across town in record time.

  Taking a break from her unpacking, Sara stood at the large picture window overlooking the tree-lined Boise River. It was a beautiful view — tall cottonwoods, their winter-bare limbs revealing nests; clear water rippling over smooth river rocks; stately homes on the opposite bank; and beyond them, mountains rising toward the sky.