The Forgiving Hour

by Robin Lee Hatcher

  The view was the main reason she’d chosen to rent this particular apartment.

  It had been nice to be with her parents this past week, sleeping in her girlhood bed, joking and teasing with her family around the supper table, getting to know her sisters-in-law, nieces, and nephews better. But she had to admit it would be good to have her own place again. After so many years with only herself for company, she’d missed her privacy.

  That thought made her smile. Who’d have believed she would ever crave solitude?

  It hadn’t been easy to reach this point. Those early years in Denver had been filled with pain, regrets, and loneliness.

  But I’m never alone, am I, Lord? Thank You for that.

  Her spiritual awakening hadn’t been a sudden thing as it was for some. For Sara, it had been a slow and sometimes arduous journey, a path traveled by fits and starts and plenty of questioning. Then one day, about three years ago, the confusion had lifted, like a gigantic cloud blown back by a strong wind, and she’d seen everything clearly. She’d understood then that she wasn’t alone. Not in Colorado. Not in Idaho. Not ever. God was always with her. He’d always been with her, even when she hadn’t known it.

  Smiling in contentment, she turned around, knowing she’d better get busy. There were boxes of glasses, dishes, and keepsakes still to be emptied before her brothers arrived with the furniture. She didn’t want any breakables in the way of their clumsy feet.

  She was headed for the kitchen when a knock sounded at her door.

  “Oh no,” she muttered. “Not yet. I’m not ready for you guys.”

  But when she opened the door, she didn’t find her brothers waiting on the other side.

  Dakota Conway smiled, just a bit sheepishly. “I came to help with the move.”

  “How did you know I was …” She let the question fade away, unfinished. She had a good idea what his answer would be. One of her sisters-in-law was behind this. She would bet money on it.

  “I was supposed to meet your brothers here to help unload the trucks. They aren’t here?”

  “Not yet.” Sara opened the door wider. “Come on in.”

  “Thanks.” He stepped into the living room.

  “I’d offer you a place to sit, but nothing’s arrived yet.” She swept back the straggling strands of hair that had escaped her ponytail and suddenly wished she’d bothered to put on at least some mascara this morning.

  His smile broadened. “I didn’t come to sit. I came to work.” He motioned toward the boxes lining one wall of the dining area. “I can help you unpack while we wait for your brothers.”

  “Are you safe around fragile items?”

  “I think so. Why?”

  “Because my brothers most definitely aren’t. That’s why I brought this load over myself.”

  Dakota laughed.

  Sara was certain she felt the laughter in her own chest.

  “I promise to use extreme care,” he vowed solemnly, the twinkle remaining in his eyes. “Just tell me where to put things, and I’ll get them there in one piece.”

  Sara hesitated, mesmerized by the way he looked at her, forgetting momentarily where they were and what they were supposed to be doing.

  “Shall we get started?” A corner of his mouth lifted in obvious amusement.

  Hoping she’d turned before he could notice her flushed cheeks, she walked to the boxes, snapped open the lid of the one on top, and said, “These things go on those built-in shelves on either side of the fireplace.” Without looking at him again, she grabbed another box of glassware and carried it into the kitchen.

  Dakota was encouraged by Sara’s flustered state. With luck, it meant she felt the same attraction he did. Time would tell.

  He set the box on the floor, crouched in front of it, and began removing the contents, each item carefully surrounded with bubble wrap. His grin returned as he looked at the collection of teddy bear figurines he’d uncovered. There was a bear dressed as Robin Hood. Next came Romeo and Juliet complete with balcony, followed by an Easter bunny bear, a Christmas angel bear, a little girl bear saying her prayers, a leprechaun bear with his own Irish blessing and pot of gold, and a pair of Thanksgiving pilgrim bears. By the time the box was emptied, he’d unwrapped over twenty-five of the figurines.

  As he started carefully placing them on the recessed shelves that bordered the fireplace, he asked in a loud voice, “How long have you been collecting these?”

  “What?”

  “These little teddy bears.” He glanced over his shoulder just as Sara stepped into view. “How long have you been collecting them?”

  “About three years now. I bought one on a whim, and the collection just grew from there.”

  “I like them.” He liked the collector too.

  Sara came across the living room. Picking up the leprechaun, she said, “This is my latest purchase. I love the blessing.” She read it aloud. “May the road rise to meet you. May the wind be always at your back. May the sun shine warm upon your face. May God hold you in the palm of His hand.”

  “He always does, doesn’t He? Hold us in the palm of His hand, I mean.”

  She met his gaze. “Yes. He always does.” The look of peace in her eyes was suddenly replaced by one of regret, making her look as vulnerable and fragile as one of her figurines. “I wish I’d always known that. Maybe I wouldn’t have made so many mistakes in my life.”

  “What sort of mistakes?” He asked the question without considering the wisdom of it. It wasn’t what she’d done that he cared about, but why it made her look so sad.

  “The stupid mistakes of the very young.”

  Dakota sensed that a wall had gone up. He wanted to knock it down. He hoped a bit of humor would do it. “And you’re so terribly old now, you don’t make mistakes anymore?”

  At first there was no reaction. And then, slowly, she smiled. “Old?”

  “Ancient wisdom,” he continued. “I’ll bet you’re full of it.”

  “I’m not sure I care for the ancient part. Mind if we change it to mature wisdom?”

  “No, I don’t mind at all.” I don’t think I’d mind anything to do with you, Sara.

  Her eyes widened, as if she’d read his thoughts. He was sorely tempted to kiss her. He wondered what she would think if he did.

  Loud male voices from the landing announced the arrival of the Jennings brothers a moment before one of them pounded on the door.

  “Sara, open up!”

  “Coming!” She stepped around Dakota and hurried toward the door, looking relieved.

  It was probably for the best, he thought. It was too soon to kiss her. But kiss Sara he would, when the time was right.

  “I’m not a golfer,” Claire muttered as she swung … and missed. Again.

  Kevin swallowed a chuckle. Laughing at her wouldn’t help.

  She turned accusing eyes in his direction. “How did I let you talk me into this?”

  “Because you knew a game of miniature golf would be fun.” “Fun?”

  He ignored her sarcastic tone. “You’ve worked hard all week long. Relax, Claire.” He set aside his putter and walked over to her. “Let me show you something.” He took hold of her right hand and adjusted the way she held the club. Then he stepped behind her. “May I?” He held out his arms on either side of her.

  She glanced over her shoulder. When she seemed to understand what he meant, she nodded.

  He moved nearer, his chest against her back, and closed his hands over the tops of hers. “Bend your knees just a little bit. That’s the way.” He hadn’t brought Claire here for this reason, but he had to admit she fit rather nicely in his arms.

  “Now what?” she asked, turning her head slightly.

  She smelled good too.

  “Kevin?”

  He cleared his throat as he released her and stepped back. “Now take a nice, easy swing, keeping your eye on the ball the whole time. Just follow it through. That’s the way.”

  She made a beautiful putt, coming
within a foot of the hole. When she turned around and smiled, Kevin felt as if he’d won an award.

  This could get interesting.

  At nine-thirty that night, the boxes unpacked and the furniture moved into Sara’s apartment, the four Jennings siblings and Dakota sat around a table in a nearby pizza parlor, sharing two large combinations and one medium Canadian bacon and pineapple. Between bites, the brothers cheerfully dispensed one story after another about their “baby” sister.

  Fighting her own laughter, pretending an offense she didn’t feel, Sara looked across the table at Dakota and said, “Didn’t you say you were an only child? Well, lucky you.”

  “I guess it does have its advantages. I do know a whole lot more about you than you know about me.”

  She swept a suspicious gaze over her brothers, wondering what they’d told Dakota when she’d been out of the room. Too curious not to, she asked, “Like what?”

  “Hmm. Well, for one, you turned thirty-one on January ninth. A belated happy birthday, by the way.”

  “Thanks.” She shot her brothers another look, this one of real disapproval.

  Dakota continued with his list of garnered information. “When you were in high school, you won some awards in barrel racing and you competed at the Snake River Stampede. After graduating from Nampa High, you attended one year at BSU where you studied theater arts, but you finished your schooling in Denver, mostly by going to school nights while working a full-time job. Let’s see. A business degree, right?”

  “Right.”

  “You don’t start your job with Master Resource until February, which means you’ve got lots of time on your hands for a few more weeks. Oh yes. I have it on good authority that you outranked your competition for that job by a mile.”

  Maybe it wasn’t so horrible, having her brothers bragging about her.

  “And one more thing,” Dakota said, revealing that crooked grin of his, the one that made her pulse quicken.

  “What’s that?” She was breathless.

  He leaned toward her, answering in a stage whisper, “Beyond the slightest doubt, Miss Jennings, you are the best looking of your parents’ offspring.”

  Her brothers immediately erupted in protests.

  “I beg to differ!”

  “Wait just a minute!”

  “What d’ya mean, Conway?”

  Eli held the half-empty pitcher of root beer over Dakota’s head and pretended he was going to pour out the contents. Then all their voices dissolved into laughter.

  Sara felt warm inside. It was wonderful to be here with her brothers. It felt good to joke and laugh. And it felt good to be with Dakota too.

  As if reading her thoughts, he leaned forward again. “I mean it. You are pretty, Sara.”

  It wasn’t fancy, as compliments went. She’d heard more flowery declarations. But it was probably the nicest one she’d ever received — because of who gave it to her.

  Sara hadn’t lain awake thinking about a guy in years. She tried to tell herself her wakefulness was due to her new surroundings. The apartment was strange to her. A sharp winter wind was whistling around the corner of the building. The light from an outdoor lamp tossed an odd shadow through the miniblinds and onto the wall.

  It had to be something other than thoughts about Dakota Conway that were keeping her awake tonight.

  That’s a lie, and I know it.

  Dakota was handsome and charming. He was friendly and helpful. He was a fellow believer. And her family liked him.

  But none of that was enough to keep her awake at night. Was it? She’d known plenty of handsome men. She’d met Christian men who might have been interested in her, had she given them an opportunity. At least she thought she had. At the moment, she couldn’t recall a single name or face.

  I’m older than Dakota, she thought, not for the first time, but by how much? And should it matter?

  She rolled to her right side and punched her pillow.

  Maybe meeting Dakota is the reason I was brought back to Boise.

  She groaned, closed her eyes, and rolled over onto her left side.

  That’s ridiculous. I didn’t come back here for a man. I came back here for a job. I worked hard for my degree, and now I’m being rewarded for that hard work. Dakota’s a nice guy, but if I was in the market for a husband, I’d look for somebody older, somebody more mature. I don’t want somebody who still has the same mistakes to make that I did.

  Her arguments made perfect sense, all of them. Except Dakota’s image remained. She could still see the sparkle in the startling blue of his eyes and the way the left side of his mouth lifted first in that charming grin of his. She could still hear the warm rumble of his laughter, the unique timbre of his voice. She could still smell the musk aftershave he wore.

  “What is wrong with me?” she muttered as she flopped onto her back and stared up at the ceiling. “I’m not a silly teenager. I don’t get crushes on guys. I haven’t since I was nineteen.”

  She winced at the memory. She didn’t like thinking of that period in her life, not even now when she knew God had forgiven her.

  She reminded herself of one of her favorite promises from the Bible: He will keep in perfect peace all those who trust in Him. She could certainly use some perfect peace about now.

  Then trust in Me.

  “I do trust You, Lord,” she whispered. “But what if this is just me and my desires getting in the way? How will I know what I’m supposed to do?”

  Trust, beloved.

  TWENTY-FOUR

  Claire was breathless as she watched the curtain go down. Applause erupted all around her, but all she could do was sit still and savor the haunting strains of music that echoed in her mind. Finally she stood, clapping her hands, smiling as she looked toward Kevin.

  “You enjoyed it,” he said above the applause and cheers of the audience.

  “It was magical.”

  He smiled and nodded. “I agree.”

  She couldn’t help wondering what sort of strings he’d had to pull to get these tickets to The Phantom of the Opera on such short notice. She also wondered what it meant, that he’d gone to both the bother and the expense.

  Looking back toward the stage, she watched as the cast took their bows, but her thoughts lingered on Kevin. She’d spent many hours with him since arriving in Seattle and had found she liked his company. He had a way of looking at her, of seeming to be truly interested, no matter what she was saying.

  He could become a good friend.

  She cast a surreptitious glance in his direction. Could it be that he wanted to be more than a friend?

  She didn’t think so. Beyond taking her arm, as any gentleman would, to help her in and out of a car or up a flight of stairs — and that moment at the miniature golf course when he’d shown her how to swing the golf club — he’d never touched her. There was nothing in any of their conversations that he couldn’t have said to one of his male colleagues. And yet —

  “Ready?” he asked.

  She realized the crowd was beginning to disperse and felt a flash of embarrassment, almost as if she feared he might have read her thoughts. Kevin took hold of her arm as they slipped into the sea of theatergoers, keeping her close to him as they made their way toward the lobby.

  It was rather nice, having a man protect her in such a way. Of course, it had been a long time since she’d given a man, other than her son, an opportunity to do so.

  The night had turned cold while they were inside the theater. Claire shivered as they stepped outside. She turned up the collar of her wool coat and slipped on her gloves. When she was ready, Kevin cupped her elbow with the palm of his hand as they made their way to his automobile.

  “I’m glad you could go with me tonight,” he said, now that the buzz of the crowd had been left behind.

  “Me too. It was an unexpected treat. I usually have to go to the musicals alone.” The moment she said it, she was sorry. It sounded as if she were feeling sorry for herself. She tried to expla
in. “Dakota is busy with his friends or work, and musical theater just isn’t Alana’s cup of tea. But I don’t mind going alone. I love it that much.”

  “I usually go by myself, too, ever since my wife died. Irene loved the theater. She had to drag me along at first. It took awhile for me to learn to appreciate it.”

  “Tell me about her. Irene.”

  “She was special.” It was obvious from his tone that there was a wealth of feelings within those three simple words.

  Claire almost wished she hadn’t asked about her.

  “She had a good and giving heart.” He grinned. “And she was a notorious practical joker. You had to stay on your toes all the time with her around.”

  “How long were you married?”

  “Twenty years.” His voice softened. “We were blessed with twenty wonderful years together before she went home to the Father.” He chuckled. “She’s probably playing practical jokes all over heaven.”

  “You still think about her often, don’t you?”

  He briefly met her gaze. “I cherish the memories of what we had, sure. But I don’t live in the past. Irene was in a lot of pain toward the end, and I knew that in heaven, she would be pain free. That made it easier to let her go on.”

  Claire was still pondering his comments when they arrived at his car. Kevin unlocked the doors with his remote as they drew near. He opened the passenger door and helped Claire in.

  They talked about the play throughout the drive to her condo. It wouldn’t be until later that she wondered if that change of subject had been by accident or by design.

  Dakota hadn’t expected to see Sara at the paint-a-thon that Saturday, but it sure made the day more special to have her there. The singles groups from five area churches had joined together to repair and spruce up the interiors of three homes in a poorer section of town. With just a little effort, Dakota managed to be paired with Sara, painting the kitchen of a tiny three-room house — perhaps shanty would have been a better description — while two others from Sunrise worked in the bedroom.