The Forgiving Hour

by Robin Lee Hatcher

  “Sure.” She looked a little hurt.

  He gave her an apologetic grin. “I’ll tell you anything else you want to know. I broke my arm when I was fourteen. Had my wisdom teeth yanked when I was sixteen. Or were those my molars? Oh, I’ve got a mole behind my right ear here.” He showed her. “And I’m a sucker for dark-red hair and beautiful green eyes.”

  As she returned his smile, he couldn’t help wondering if their kids would have hair and eyes like their mother.

  Claire supposed it was just as well that Kevin had been called out of town on business this past week. Being totally on her own — during the day while handling the myriad duties associated with setting up the new office and at home in the evenings — had forced her to do a lot of reading and studying, thinking and praying.

  It wasn’t that she didn’t know what she was supposed to do. The Bible was clear on the subject. She knew. She’d read the words every single day and could repeat them from memory.

  For if you forgive men for their transgressions, your heavenly Father will also forgive you. But if you do not forgive men, then your Father will not forgive your transgressions.

  Yes, she knew what she was supposed to do, but she didn’t know how to do it. How did she forgive Dave for cheating on her, for going to bed with other women, for rejecting not just her but the son she had given him? He had left them with no money and a ton of debt and just skipped out. How was she supposed to forgive him all that? She was the innocent party here. Dave was the one who’d sinned. He should have been punished. She remembered hoping he’d gone to hell when he died. He’d hurt her. He’d wronged her. Why should she have to forgive him?

  She’d nursed this hatred for so many years it seemed impossible to let it go.

  “Obedience is better than sacrifice,” the pastor had said last Sunday.

  It took Claire the better part of the week to figure out what that meant. And this morning, she’d read something in her devotional that helped even more. Faith wasn’t about feelings, it said. If we only obeyed God when we felt like it, then few would obey Him.

  Not about feelings.

  Obedience.

  Forgive or you can’t be forgiven.

  Obedience, not feelings.

  And so on this cloudy and rainy winter afternoon, Claire knelt beside her sofa, bowed her head, and prayed. “Lord, I don’t feel forgiveness, but if that’s what You want from me, I’ll do it. As an act of obedience, I forgive Dave. Now if You want me to feel it, You’re going to have to change my attitude because I can’t do it on my own. Amen.”

  She rose and walked to the window.

  That wasn’t so bad, she thought. Now she could put Dave completely out of her mind, once and for all, just as she’d tried to do before. This time it would work. Besides, there were so many good things to think about, so many wonderful things happening in her life now. Who wanted to rehash things of the past?

  The Lone Star was packed to the brim when Dakota and Sara arrived. Rather than wait forty-five minutes to get a table, they decided to buy steaks and salad fixings at the grocery store and return to Sara’s apartment.

  Sara was surprised — pleasantly so — when she discovered it was Dakota’s intention to prepare the meal while she relaxed.

  “Hey, this isn’t the fifties. Guys cook.” He flashed one of his charmingly crooked grins.

  “I have a dad and three brothers,” she stated with authority. “Trust me. None of them cook. When their wives aren’t around, the best any of them can do is operate an electric can opener. Pork and beans is the usual fare in such situations.”

  “Well, maybe I’ll just have to invite them over to my place for a few lessons.” He flourished his right hand in the air. “Maybe I should have my own television show. ‘Men in the Kitchen with Chef Dakota.’ What do you think?”

  She tried to imagine her dad and brothers learning how to chop an onion or marinate meat or bake something from scratch. It was so ludicrous that she laughed out loud.

  “And what’s funny about that?” He looked offended, but she knew he was teasing her. “Do you think I couldn’t teach them a thing or two?”

  “It isn’t you. It’s them. They’re all hopeless.” She shook her head, trying to stifle her amusement.

  “Do I hear a” — he made quotation marks in the air with his fingertips — “typical male hidden in those words? If so, I take exception.”

  There’s nothing typical about you, Dakota.

  Her heart fluttered, and she found herself wanting to step into his arms. Forget dinner. She wanted him to kiss her. Over and over and over again. She wanted to melt into his embrace. She wanted things she most certainly should not be wanting.

  Hoping he hadn’t read her thoughts, she asked, “Did your mom teach you to cook?”

  It was his turn to laugh. “No. Although she could have back when I was a kid. She used to have these great dinner parties. Everybody loved to come to our house for one of Mom’s parties because she always served the best food.” As he talked, he rinsed and shredded the lettuce, then started chopping carrots and celery. “She wasn’t into parties by the time I was a teen. Just not enough money for that sort of thing. After I moved out when I was in college, she quit cooking altogether. I think she’s lived on takeout for years. If she has to feed herself from her own refrigerator and pantry, she opens a can of pineapple and mixes it with cottage cheese.”

  “I know what that’s like.” Sara reached into the cupboard and got down two glasses. Her hands were shaking, simply because she was standing close to him. “Diet Coke or Sprite?” She hoped he didn’t notice the quiver in her voice.

  “Sprite, please.”

  “Ah, a boy after Dad’s own heart.” That, at least, sounded normal. “The rest of us are caffeine junkies. Everybody except Dad.”

  She got the drinks out of the fridge, popped the tabs, and filled the glasses, all the while remembering the kiss they’d shared at the hot springs and hoping for another.

  Unexpectedly, Dakota’s hands closed upon her waist and turned her about. And there she was, right where she’d wanted to be all along. In his arms.

  His kiss was infinitely sweet and heart-stoppingly amorous. When he drew back, he closed his hands around her upper arms; Sara found her legs useless, completely without strength. If not for his grip, she would have fallen.

  “Sara.”

  She looked up at him, still breathless, still weak in the knees.

  “I’m falling in love with you.”

  I’m falling in love with you too. In fact, I think I already have.

  With his right hand, he caressed her cheek. “You’re so wonderful.”

  So are you.

  “I’ve been looking for you for a long time, Sara.”

  Her throat felt tight. “I haven’t always made good choices in men. I’ve made awful mistakes. For so long —”

  “It doesn’t matter what mistakes you made in the past. I’m not like any of those other guys.”

  No, he wasn’t. Dakota was someone special. To be told he was falling in love with her was almost incomprehensible. Too good to be true.

  And maybe it wouldn’t last.

  With that thought in mind, she whispered, “We’ve known each other such a short time. How can you be so sure what you —”

  “We’re not going to rush into anything,” he interrupted. He drew her close again, his lips brushing her forehead as he spoke. “We’re going to seek God’s will and His timing in all of this. Let’s trust Him to work out the rest.”

  Sara released a deep breath as she closed her eyes and allowed herself to surrender to his embrace. She would trust God, and she would trust Dakota.

  As long as she did, nothing could possibly go wrong.

  TWENTY-EIGHT

  “Happy Groundhog Day!” Alana shouted cheerfully the moment that Claire answered the telephone. “I don’t know about Punx-sutawney, PA, but I’m thinking winter’s on its last leg in Boise. How about in Seattle? How’s the weath
er?”

  Claire grinned as she settled onto the sofa, listening to her friend’s chatter. “A little of this. A little of that. Rain, sunshine, chilly, pleasant. You know.”

  “Jack’s been talking about flying over to meet with Kevin and go through the new office. I thought I might come with him. What do you think?”

  “That would be wonderful. I’d love to see you. When do you think you’ll come?”

  Alana laughed. “You know how Jack is. He’ll have to think on it for ages before he makes up his mind.” She let out a dramatic sigh. “I’m told that’s why he’s such a successful businessman. He always studies his options from every possible angle. But spontaneity might be nice on occasion.” She hardly took a breath before switching subjects. “So, tell me how you and Kevin are getting along.”

  “Fine.” Claire really didn’t want to say more. She thought she and Kevin were getting along fine, but she hadn’t seen him since his return to Seattle this morning. They hadn’t even spoken by telephone.

  “I’ve always thought he was a super-nice guy. And handsome too. Don’t you think so?”

  “Yes. Yes, I do think so.”

  “Aha!”

  Claire groaned. “Oh, Alana, please don’t get started on one of your matchmaking rampages.”

  “Why not, girlfriend? You’ve been on the shelf way too long. Not all men are scuzzbags like your ex. Kevin Quade is a peach of a guy. Maybe a little too square with all his religion talk, but a peach of a guy nonetheless.”

  Claire wondered what her friend would think once she knew Claire believed all that “religion talk.” And when should she tell her?

  “He lost his wife years ago,” Alana continued, “and he’s got to be tired of going it alone. I just know the two of you would be perfect for each other.”

  “Maybe.”

  “I knew it! You are interested! Oh, Claire, that’s terrific. I want to know everything that’s happened.”

  “Nothing’s happened. At least, not what you think.”

  Alana laughed. “I’ll just bet it hasn’t. Something’s up. I can tell. Now I know I’m coming over with Jack. I’ve got to see this for myself. Claire Conway, after all these years, interested in a man.”

  It was pretty amazing, at that, Claire thought as Alana’s conversation veered off in another direction, this time about her kids.

  Fifteen minutes later, they said good-bye and Claire hung up the telephone. But her hand lingered on the handset as Alana’s voice echoed in her memory: You are interested!

  Guilty as charged. She was interested in Kevin — and as more than her spiritual mentor. She thought she could learn to care for him as a man, not just a brother in Christ.

  But she wasn’t so sure he felt the same way about her. Was it because he was technically her boss? Or was he simply not interested in her in a romantic way? Perhaps he still mourned the loss of his wife, despite his statement to the contrary. Or perhaps he was content with things as they were.

  She could understand that. There was much to be said for living alone. She never had to cook a meal. She ate when she was hungry and didn’t when she wasn’t. If she wanted to watch TV, she could do so without arguing over what channel. If she wanted to buy something, she didn’t have to take anyone else’s tastes into consideration. She could turn on the light and read in the middle of the night and not worry about disturbing someone on the other side of the bed.

  The other side of the bed.

  Was it possible she might want to share it with a man again?

  Twelve years ago, she’d welcomed her husband’s attentions. But after his betrayal, she’d repressed any desire. No longer a whole woman. Undesirable. Discarded like rubbish.

  Was it possible that could change?

  “Would it even be good for that to change, Lord?”

  By the end of her first day as the new personnel director at Master Resource Industries, Sara was exhausted. Her brain felt ready to explode. Despite what everyone else seemed to think, she had serious doubts about her qualifications for the position. She was scared to death that she — and they—would soon discover Sara Jennings was a complete and utter fraud. Maybe she hadn’t even deserved her degree. Maybe that had been a mistake, a fluke, the result of a computer glitch.

  She drove home, fighting the urge to cry the whole way. She hoped a soak in her whirlpool bath would ease away the tension, but she doubted it would help.

  The instant the door to her apartment swung closed behind her, she began stripping off her clothes. First her blouse, then her skirt, then her slip. The bra and pantyhose didn’t come off until she reached the bathroom.

  “I made so many stupid mistakes,” she muttered as she turned on the water. “The file clerks know more than I do.”

  She poured a capful of vanilla-scented bath salts into the tub, then grabbed a pair of hair claws from the basket on her bathroom counter. Bending over at the waist, her head even with her knees, she brushed her hair toward the floor, grasped the thick shank with her left hand, and after straightening, she gave the mass of hair a twist before capturing it on top of her head with the claws.

  What if they fire me?

  She tested the water in the tub with her toes. It was hot, but not too hot. She stepped in and sank down. Closing her eyes, she leaned her head on the spa pillow at the end opposite the faucet.

  I’m the personnel director. I should fire myself and save them the trouble.

  What would she do if she lost her job? She certainly wouldn’t find another position in Boise as good as this one. If she wanted to stay in Idaho, she would have to return to clerical work. And even if she did, she would never earn enough money to afford the rent on this apartment or the monthly payments on her new car. She’d probably have to move back in with her parents.

  Failure … Idiot …

  She remembered the countless times she’d had to buzz her secretary, Raquel Gonzalez, with one question after another. Things that she should have known — or at least should have guessed. She could just imagine Raquel going home to her family and saying, “This one won’t last long.”

  What will I do if I lose my job?

  Sara used her foot to shut off the water. She wished she could turn off her thoughts as easily.

  Do you add a single hour to your life by worrying, My daughter?

  “I have to worry, Lord! I’m blowing the best opportunity of what is supposed to be my new career.”

  She punched the control button, and the whirlpool jets roared to life, quickly whipping the bath salts into a swelling blanket of white bubbles.

  Relax … Don’t worry so much … Be anxious for nothing … One day at a time.

  She silently repeated the litany of positive phrases in her head. But it soon became painfully obvious that she wasn’t going to heed the good advice.

  Frustrated with herself and with the whole world, she got out of the tub and dried off, slipped into her terrycloth robe, and headed for the kitchen. When all else failed, a half gallon of chocolate-chip-cookie-dough ice cream was usually what the doctor ordered.

  She was seated on the barstool at the kitchen counter, the container of ice cream in front of her and tablespoon in hand, when her doorbell rang.

  “Go away,” she mumbled before taking another spoonful of ice cream.

  A few moments later, the caller knocked.

  She closed her eyes, trying to shut out the sound of the intruder, and licked the spoon clean.

  The bell rang again, followed by another knock.

  “All right. All right. I’m coming.” She went to the door and yanked it open without first checking the peephole. “Whatever you’re selling —” She stopped abruptly when she saw Dakota, a bouquet of mauve-colored rosebuds in his hand.

  His eyes widened … and then he grinned. “Great first day, huh?”

  She could feel tendrils of hair clinging damply to her neck. She knew that her natural curls, fresh from her hot soak in the tub, must resemble a bird’s nest—or worse. She
hadn’t washed off her makeup, and there was no doubt in her mind that smudges of mascara streaked her face. And the clothes she’d discarded upon her arrival home still littered the floor, a trail from living room to bathroom.

  Well, if this didn’t cap an already perfectly horrid day, she didn’t know what would.

  Dakota stepped closer and brushed the corner of her mouth with his right thumb. “Ice cream, I think.”

  Lord, could You please open the floor and just let me drop through it?

  He kissed her. “Mmm,” he said as he drew back. “Unfamiliar flavor, but I like it. Have any left?”

  “What?”

  “Ice cream. Do you have any left or did you polish it all off?”

  She didn’t know whether to laugh hysterically or burst into tears.

  “Would you rather I went away?” he asked, his smile vanishing.

  “No.” It couldn’t get any worse than this. Right? “You can stay.”

  He entered, walking into the center of the living room before turning to face her. “Whatever went wrong, I’ll bet it wasn’t as bad as you think.”

  “Yes, it was.” She closed the door. “Oh yes, it was.”

  “Sweetheart, almost nothing ever is.”

  His endearment succeeded in bringing those tears to her eyes. She tried to turn away, to escape before he noticed them. She was too late.

  He caught her by the wrist and drew her toward him, at the same time tossing aside the bouquet of roses before enfolding her in his embrace. He was tall and strong, and it was easy to lean into him and cry her heart out.

  So that’s just what she did.

  “Shh.” He loosed her hair from the two claws, dropping them on the floor. Then he stroked her head with one hand while stroking her back with the other. “It’s okay, Sara. I promise you, it is.”

  “You … don’t know … what a fool I … made of myself … today.”

  He chuckled, and the sound in his chest rumbled against her ear. “You’re no fool, honey. And no one would ever think you were.”