She wished she had her Bible with her so she could look it up. She was like that all the time. She couldn’t seem to learn enough. She wanted to know it all, experience it all, and understand it all.
Kevin laughed softly, and Claire was certain he’d read her mind. It had been this way between them often this past week. She’d turned to him countless times in countless ways. He’d taken her to the Christian bookstore and helped her pick out her new Bible and a host of study tools. He’d recommended devotional books and study books. And on Wednesday night, he’d taken her to a midweek praise-and-prayer service at his church. Claire had tried to hide it, but she’d been positively giddy with joy the whole time. It was such a good feeling, this lightness of being, this sense of unfettered liberty.
“Have you told Dakota yet?” Kevin asked, breaking into her musings.
She shook her head. “No. I’ve called him a couple of times, but he hasn’t been in.” She smiled. “This isn’t the sort of thing I want to leave on an answering machine. It’s too special for that.”
“You’re special, Claire. Remember that. You’re a new creation.”
The way he said it made her feel soft and warm inside. She hadn’t thought a man could ever make her feel that way again, but Kevin Quade did. She wasn’t sure what it meant. Was it merely friendship or could it become something more?
Again, he must have read her mind. His expression sobered, and he gave his head a slight shake. “The most important thing for you right now is to deepen your walk with Christ. Don’t let anything get in the way of that. Not even me.”
It seemed a strange thing for him to say. “I won’t.” Hadn’t Kevin led her to Christ? How could he get in God’s way?
“Right now, everything looks rosy to you. But believe me, being a Christian doesn’t mean life will be easy from here on out. It doesn’t mean all your problems go away, as if by magic.”
“I know that.”
Silence stretched between them as he stared down at her. She felt his tender concern and again wondered if Kevin could become more than a friend.
“Tell me about Dakota’s father.”
“No!” Her vehemence surprised them both. She would have turned and walked away, only his hand on her arm stayed her flight.
“Wait,” he said gently.
“I never talk about my ex-husband. Never. I’ve worked hard to forget him, and that’s how it will stay.”
“But you can’t have forgotten him if you’re still this angry. Whatever he did to hurt you, you need to forgive more than forget.”
The memory of Dakota telling her he’d forgiven his dad flashed in her mind. Along with it, she remembered her bitterness, her sense of betrayal.
“Claire, Jesus died for him too. He deserves your forgiveness.”
“It isn’t that simple.” She turned her back toward him. “You don’t know what he did.”
“Will your unforgiveness make a difference to him? Will he be punished by it?”
Claire closed her eyes. “Dave’s dead. He passed away nearly four years ago.”
“I see.”
What did Kevin see? she wondered. He hadn’t known Dave. He hadn’t known the way Dave had hurt his family, betrayed them, rejected them. He couldn’t possibly know what it had done to her. From what Kevin had told her, he’d been happily married right up to the moment his wife died. As awful as that must have been for him, at least he’d known his wife still loved him, even at the end.
Dripping wet from the shower, a towel wrapped around his waist, Dakota grabbed the phone on the fifth ring, just as the answering machine picked up. “Hello.”
“Dakota?”
“Yeah, it’s me, Mom. Hold on a sec. Okay?”
“Okay.”
He dashed back to the bathroom, dropped the towel, and pulled on a pair of cutoff sweatpants. He was back to the phone in just over a minute. “Thanks. I just got out of the shower and had to dry off.” He sat down on the sofa. “So how’re things going? You getting that office in shape?”
“A little at a time.”
“What do you think of Seattle?”
“The skies are a bit gray and weepy, but I like it. You wouldn’t believe all the things I’ve been doing — miniature golf, a Broadway musical, the art gallery, walks in the park. Kevin took me over to the ocean last Sunday.”
Dakota grinned. “Kevin?”
“Mr. Quade. Jack’s business partner in this venture. I told you about him.”
Yes, she had, but he hadn’t been Kevin then.
“How are things in Boise?”
“Your house is still standing. The thermostat is set at sixty. There’s no mail in the mailbox. All the doors and windows are locked.”
“All right, you.” Wry humor laced her retort.
“Just wanted you to know I didn’t forget your instructions.”
“I meant, how are you?”
He thought of Sara. “I’m great. Really great.” He wondered if he should tell his mom about her, then quickly decided against it. It was still too early, and she was sure to make too much of it.
“Honey? There’s a special reason I called.”
He had to strain to hear her.
“I wish I didn’t have to do this over the phone.”
Dakota leaned forward, feeling alarmed. “What is it, Mom?”
“No. It’s good news.”
“So tell me what it is.” He wouldn’t relax until she did.
“You see, I’ve finally understood … Well, Kevin has helped me to see that …” She sighed deeply. Then the words came out in a rush. “Dakota, I’ve found Jesus.”
For a moment, he thought he’d misunderstood her. It would have been easier to believe she’d won a million dollars in the Washington State Lottery. It was only three weeks since he’d seen her off at the airport. He could still remember her expression when he’d said he was trusting God to bring him a wife. How could something this momentous happen in such a short period of time?
“Dakota? Are you still there?”
“I’m here, Mom. I’m just … surprised.” Understatement of the year.
“Of course you are.” Her soft laughter rolled across the phone lines and into the earpiece of the receiver. “So was I. I still am. A little.”
For the next fifteen minutes, he listened as she told him what had happened to her. He heard many things in her words and voice. Her awe. Her joy. Her eagerness to learn and grow. But there was something else. Something she was holding back. He wondered if he should press her to tell him, but a small voice warned him that, whatever it was, she had to work it out for herself.
“Dakota … I want to thank you.”
“For what?”
“For all the years you’ve been praying for me. It must have been hard, the way I rejected everything you believed in. It must have hurt. I wish I’d been a better mother to you.”
His throat tightened, and he felt uncomfortably close to tears. Somehow he managed to say, “You’ve always been the best. Always.”
His doorbell rang before Claire could respond.
“Hang on again, Mom.” He set down the receiver, then strode to the door and yanked it open to reveal John. “Wait till I tell you what’s happened.” He hurried back to the telephone. “I’m back.”
“You have company?”
“It’s just John.”
His friend made a face.
“Give him my love.”
Dakota held the phone away from his ear. “Mom sends her love.”
“Back atcha, Ms. Conway,” John shouted.
She laughed. “You boys must have an evening out planned,” she said. “I can’t imagine you showering for John.”
It was Dakota’s turn to laugh. “You’re right there, but I won’t tell him what you said.” He ignored John’s suspicious glare. “A group from church is getting together to play Balderdash. I’ve got the game board, so I’m required to be there.”
“Then I’d better let you go. I’ll call agai
n soon.”
“Hey, Mom.” He lowered his voice and turned away from John. “I’m rejoicing right along with the angels in heaven over what’s happened.”
“Thanks, honey. You have a good time tonight.”
“We will.”
“Good-bye.”
“Bye, Mom. I love you.”
“I love you too.”
After she placed the receiver in its cradle, Claire sat on the sofa, staring at the phone. “How did you do it, Dakota? How did you forgive him?”
Those were the questions she’d wanted to pose to her son, but she hadn’t been able to do it. She just couldn’t mention his father to him. She couldn’t.
Will my unforgiveness make a difference to Dave?
No, it wouldn’t make a bit of difference. Dave was dead and gone. Why couldn’t she just forget it?
Forgive Dave, Kevin had said. But he didn’t understand. He didn’t know the facts. He’d never been betrayed the way she had. He’d never been deserted. No one could understand what that had felt like, what she’d had to live through. If Kevin did understand, then he wouldn’t ask her to forgive.
“No one could possibly understand what I feel,” she said with certainty. “No one.”
I understand.
The breath caught in her throat, and her heart started to hammer.
I was deserted by one whom I loved. Peter denied Me three times. One whom I trusted betrayed Me. Judas sold me for thirty pieces of silver. I know and understand, beloved.
“But I can’t do it, Jesus,” she whispered. “Don’t ask it of me.” She covered her face with her hands. “I love You, but I just can’t do it. I’m not strong enough. I’ll never be strong enough.”
TWENTY-SEVEN
A thick blanket of snow covered the ground and lay heavy upon the limbs of majestic pines. Smoke rose from the chimney of the lodge, the woodsy fragrance reviving happy memories of evenings spent around campfires. Parents and kids, bundled in parkas and snow boots, hurried to and from parked cars.
Here in the mountains north of Boise, there was no hint of the unseasonable warm spell the valley had enjoyed for more than a week. It looked and felt like what it was — the last day of January.
But Sara didn’t mind the snow or the cold. Not while she was clinging to an air mattress and floating in the natural hot springs swimming pool, with steam rising from the surface of the water to form a misty cloud around her head. She closed her eyes and let herself enjoy it all.
She couldn’t remember a period in her life when she’d been this contented. Perhaps it was just being home again after so long. Perhaps it was having several weeks off before starting a new job. Or perhaps she had simply reached a new level of maturity. But she thought it probably had more to do with Dakota Conway.
They’d seen each other every evening since their bike ride along the greenbelt, taking long walks, going to a movie or out to dinner, talking for hours. She’d discovered in all that time with Dakota that there was much to like about him. His interests were many and eclectic. He expressed his thoughts intelligently and was an equally good listener.
And he made her laugh. She liked that about him, perhaps most of all.
“How does a dinner of steak and prawns sound to you?” Dakota asked, intruding on her thoughts.
“Mmm.” The throaty response was the best she could do. She felt too lazy to speak.
“Or the Lone Star’s got great barbecue.” He sounded as relaxed as Sara felt.
“Mmm.”
The water stirred around her. She opened her eyes to find Dakota, his torso draped over the top of another air mattress, floating directly in front of her. Close enough for him to reach out and take hold of her hand.
“You’re not going to fall asleep and drown, are you?” he asked. “Because if you do, I’ll have to use mouth-to-mouth resuscitation to revive you.”
What a wonderfully enticing thought that was. It might be worth swallowing some water in order to be saved by him.
His grin was positively wicked. She should have known it meant trouble. If she hadn’t been lulled by the warm water, her brain distracted by images of romantic rescue, she might have realized he was formulating a plot against her.
Suddenly Dakota disappeared beneath the surface of the water. A second later his hands closed around her ankles. She squealed in protest, but it was already too late.
Down she went.
When they bobbed up, in tandem, Sara brushed the water from her eyes and declared, “You got my hair wet, Dakota Conway, and that means war.”
Using cupped hands, she took the offensive in an all-out water fight. When it became obvious he was beating her at her own game, she grabbed a plastic bucket from the side of the pool and used it to toss water in his face.
“Uncle!” he cried at last.
Laughing and panting, they made their way to the shallow end of the pool where they collapsed, side by side, onto the step.
“Sorry,” he said, sounding totally unrepentant. “I couldn’t help myself.”
“You should be sorry. Do you know how long it takes to dry this hair of mine?” She scowled at him but knew the look was unconvincing.
“No. Tell me how long it takes.”
A shiver of awareness shot through her. “Hours. Hours and hours. If I had any sense, I’d chop it all off, the way I used to wear it in high school.”
“I like it long.” He reached out and took hold of her soggy ponytail. “I think it’s beautiful.”
Her mouth went dry, and she felt lightheaded.
“But you’d be beautiful no matter how you wore it.” He slid closer to her. When he continued, his voice was low and husky. “I think it’s time I kissed you again, Sara.”
She swallowed. Yes.
He drew near, his eyes staring deeply into hers. He moved with extreme care, as if she were a skittish colt tangled in barbed wire. When he kissed her, she felt treasured, special, and utterly desirable.
His hands came up to cradle the side of her head, and the kiss deepened.
She would have had a hard time explaining why, but she knew in that moment — with water lapping around her shoulders, her sodden ponytail tugging at her scalp, and Dakota’s fingertips stroking her temples — that it was no mere passing fancy she felt for this man.
And it wasn’t simply physical desire. It was something much more. Something much better.
The moment was perfect … right up until the beach ball smacked their heads, knocking them apart. Impish laughter regaled them.
“Tommy Johnson!” The woman’s voice was stern. “You apologize this minute.”
“But they were smoochin’, Mama. They shouldn’t’ve been doin’ that in the pool.”
Their assailant stared at them from about fifteen feet away. Maybe seven years old with carrot-red hair, freckles, and a face that said Trouble! with a capital T.
“You apologize to those nice people this minute, or you’ll get the tanning of your life when we get home. When I tell your father …”
Dakota stood and turned toward the mortified mother. “No harm done, ma’am. It was just a beach ball.”
“All the same, he needs to apologize. Tommy, you do what I say right this minute.”
Tommy scrunched his lips together and narrowed his eyes.
“Thomas Roy Johnson.”
That did the trick. Reluctantly, Tommy moved through the water toward Dakota and Sara. Sara could read the rebellion in his eyes. This kid was anything but sorry. If she were his mother, she’d have scolded him too. But she wasn’t his mother, and all she wanted to do was laugh. He was just too cute to be angry at. She had to fight to hide her smile.
“Sorry,” Tommy mumbled. “I shouldn’t’ve done it.”
Dakota sank down in the water again. “Apology accepted. Only from now on, you do what your mom says the first time she says it. Okay?”
“Okay.”
“Come on, Tommy,” his mother called. “It’s time to go.”
“But I said I was sorry!”
Dakota leaned toward him, saying in a deep, solemn voice, “The first time, Thomas Roy Johnson.”
Sara was amazed by how quickly Tommy decided he’d better mind. He scrambled past her on the step and hurried toward his mother, who wrapped him in a large beach towel and ushered him into the warmth of the dressing rooms.
Dakota chuckled. “His mom’s in for it in another ten years.”
“His mom’s already in for it.” She laughed with him, then said, “You’re good with kids.”
He shrugged and smiled at her.
“Do you want children of your own?” She hadn’t known she was going to ask the question until it was out.
“Yes. Several. I’d like a family like the one you grew up in. I want to take my kids camping and do all the sports things with them like baseball and soccer.” His voice lowered. “I want to be a dad who’s there for his kids whenever they need him.”
His comment seemed more intimate than a kiss. Perhaps because it revealed more about him than he knew.
She took hold of his hand beneath the surface of the water. “You know all about my family, but we haven’t talked much about yours. Tell me about when you were growing up.”
What Dakota wanted to do was kiss her.
“Please,” she whispered, her gaze locked with his.
How could a guy resist the gentle caring he saw in her eyes and heard in her voice? He couldn’t.
“Not much to tell really. Mom raised me by herself from the time I was twelve. My dad’s dead. There wasn’t ever any extra money, so we lived pretty simply. I know she worried all the time about paying the bills and about raising me right, and I sure didn’t make it any easier on her. I was what they politely call a troubled teen, right up until I became a Christian.”
“Losing your dad so young must have been hard on you. I’m sorry.”
He realized she thought his father had died when he was a boy. He hadn’t meant to mislead her.
“What’s wrong?” she asked, apparently seeing the consternation on his face.
“Listen, Sara. I made a promise to my mom many years ago not to talk about my dad. Not to anyone. Not even when she isn’t around. You see, things didn’t end well between them. So until she tells me different, let’s just avoid that topic. Okay?”
The Forgiving Hour Page 18