Loving Promises

by Gail Gaymer Martin

“This is it,” he said. “They’ll sail along here into the marina.”

  Bev collected her handbag and sweater while he climbed out and rounded the car to meet her. When he opened the door, she sent him a smile that warmed him more than a summer heat wave. When she stepped onto the concrete, Dale took her arm and guided her across the street to the Lake Michigan shoreline.

  They followed the boardwalk and settled on the large set of bleachers used for waterfront events. Today it was filled with people waiting for the racers.

  Off in the distance, a few sails jutted above the horizon. Dale pointed toward them as they heaved forward on the billowing turquoise water. The sun lowered in the sky, dipping into the endless lake and sending its golden fingers flickering across the waves.

  The boats reminded Dale of himself, tossing around on an endless sea of waves, heading for a distant shore he had yet to know. Frightening. Lately, between his mother’s problems and Bev stepping into his life, he’d felt lost. She’d thrown off his plans and filled his mind, but in his heart, he sensed he could never make a commitment or say “I love you.”

  A breeze blew, and he felt Bev shudder with the cooler temperature. He slipped his arm around her shoulder. “Is that better?” he asked.

  She smiled and snuggled closer.

  Dale tucked her against him as his thoughts wandered away to forbidden realms. If he were smart, he’d take back his arm and control the forces that swelled within him. But the sweet sensation won out, and he let himself enjoy the moment.

  Bev’s hair ruffled with the breeze and tresses brushed against Dale’s face, arousing his senses and leaving him thoughtful. He knew so little about her. How had widowhood impacted her? Had her marriage been a good one? Had her husband been her soul mate? If he were correct, the man had to be the one God wanted her to be with forever, bound by an oath of love.

  “This is wonderful,” Bev said. “I can’t believe I’ve lived here most of my life and never seen the races.”

  He saw a flicker of sadness in her eyes that piqued his interest.

  “Tell me about yourself, Bev.” He tilted her chin toward his face. “Remember? Today’s my turn.”

  She gave him a halfhearted grin, but he knew it was a cover-up. He’d gotten to know Bev well enough to recognize the nuances in her face.

  “Nothing exciting,” she said, turning her attention toward the sailboats.

  He wanted to look in her eyes, but she resisted and he didn’t persist.

  “I was born in Loving. When I was in high school my father was transferred to the Detroit area. I was miserable leaving all my friends.”

  “You graduated in Detroit?”

  “Warren, Michigan, actually. Then I went to junior college. I didn’t know what I wanted to be, but college seemed the thing to do. I met Jesse there. We’d known each other in Loving, although we hadn’t been close then. We married and moved back here. That’s about it.”

  But Dale knew that wasn’t all of it.

  Bev’s hazel eyes darkened when she finally looked at him. “Jesse died three years ago in a motorcycling accident. I’d stopped working to raise the kids. I had a hard time.”

  “With two kids, I can imagine.”

  “Kristin was only one. She doesn’t remember Jesse, but Michael has a few memories. His father really doted on him.”

  The image rose in Dale’s thoughts like a shadow, and he sensed the impact his father’s death had made on Michael. Now, as an adult, Dale was facing a similar grief of his own. “What did you do after Jesse died?”

  She lowered her gaze again. “Jesse left no insurance. I had no income and too much pride for assistance, so I did what mothers do. I found a job at Loving Care.” She lifted her head, her face brighter. “It’s actually been a great experience. I could take the kids with me. After Michael started school, I only had Kristin, and next September, she’ll enter kindergarten.”

  Dale wanted to ask why Jesse had had no insurance and exactly how he had died, but he could see Bev’s discomfort and swallowed the questions. All he could do was hug Bev even closer to his side. He knew her life had been difficult and felt he’d added to her problems with his attitude toward her kids. He needed to try harder to be a good friend and not a selective one.

  An opportunity came to mind. Dale loved Bev’s company, and he figured he could deal with the children occasionally. “Any decisions about Kristin’s birthday?”

  “Yes. She’s excited about the sand sculpture so that’ll be a nice day for her.”

  “Would you like me to come along? We could have a picnic on the beach.”

  She lifted her head and gave him a questioning gaze. “Are you serious?”

  Was he? The question flew through his mind, but he answered with a quick, “Sure.”

  “That would be nice.”

  Dale’s thoughts scattered through his head. Friends did things for friends. Millie’s devotion to his father came to mind, but the reference also sent a charge of irritation through Dale. He had little time alone with his mother anymore since Millie was huddling over her. When he tried to do something, Millie took over. He wanted to help his mother. He owed her that, but getting around Millie seemed impossible. She’d taken over their home.

  Dale dismissed his thoughts. Why ruin a pleasant day? Instead he looked across the water at the sailboats that now neared the shore, their hulls digging into the rolling surf. Dale’s emotions pitched and tossed, leaving him as confounded as the sailboats’ wild ride.

  His only hope was to find an anchor—to moor his emotions before he drowned.

  Chapter Eight

  Dale pulled the picnic hamper out of his trunk while Bev helped the kids climb from the car. A soft breeze ruffled Dale’s shirt as he hoisted the basket onto his arm. He looked toward the Lake Michigan beach; the bright June sun shimmered off the sand and the indigo water washed to shore with a billowing swish. If only life could be so perfect.

  He liked Bev—a lot, if he were truthful—and if he wanted to spend time with her, he needed to tolerate the children and enjoy Kristin’s birthday.

  “Beautiful day,” Bev said, circling the car. She extended her arms. “Let me help.”

  He handed her the picnic basket, pulled out the cooler and called over his shoulder, “Can you kids handle these sand chairs?”

  Before the last words left his mouth, the children had vanished, scurrying toward the picnic tables. Dale clamped his mouth closed to avoid making a comment or bellowing at them. No sense riling Bev and ruining the pleasant day.

  Bev went on ahead, leaving Dale behind to balance the chairs on the cooler so he could carry them. As he followed, he calmed himself and admired Bev’s shapely form. She’d worn white shorts with a blue-striped knit top and had wound her hair into a knot. The wind played among the clasps, pulling strands loose as she headed for the picnic tables.

  While Dale struggled along doing a balancing act, his gaze shifted to the Grand Haven pier jutting far into the lake. The old and new lighthouses stood at its end like red sentinels guarding the shoreline.

  The children noticed the lights and pointed. Kristin twirled in the sand, excitement evident on her face, while Michael ran on ahead.

  “The lighthouses,” Bev called. “They want to go up there.”

  “Before we eat?” he asked, finally catching up to her.

  The kids’ sweatshirts lay discarded beside the picnic table while they stood in the distance beckoning and waving as they jigged in the sand.

  Dale unloaded the gear, then joined Bev as she headed for the pier. He caught her hand and pulled her forward while her laughter rang in his ears along with the pounding of the surf against the breakwater.

  “Be careful,” Dale called to the children. “The pier is slippery.”

  The kids held back, and Dale was pleased to see Michael mind for once.

  “Thank you,” he said when he reached them. He gave Kristin’s ponytail a playful tug. “We have to be careful.”

  Kristin
wrinkled her nose and grinned.

  Bev looked relaxed as they walked the wide weather-worn planks. The kids scurried down the middle, then ran back, staying close to their sides.

  Contentment engulfed him, away from the stress of work and his mother’s illness. Though Millie irked him at times, Dale saw a difference in his father’s face; he looked more relaxed, and he smiled so much more than he had. Something about Bev’s family lifted people’s spirits. Often he found himself grinning like the Cheshire cat at Bev.

  Dale tucked his hands into his pockets and looked down between the planks to the roiling surf. When Bev stopped along the rail, Dale joined her, watching the surf roll in, smashing against the pilings in a gigantic spray. “I’m sure this will be a special birthday for Kristin,” Bev said. “Thanks for suggesting it.”

  “You’re welcome.” Dale’s thoughts segued from Kristin’s birthday to his mother’s—possibly her last. It was coming up soon, and sorrow spiraled through him. He wanted to do something special for her, too.

  The children called to them, and he and Bev turned away from the railing. When they reached the children, Michael was sitting on the lighthouse’s entrance steps. “Can we go inside?”

  “It’s locked,” Dale said. “They don’t use this lighthouse anymore.”

  Michael rose and tried the door again, yanking on the handle with all his strength.

  “Who turns on the light?” Kristin asked, looking up toward the glass dome at the top.

  “The U.S. Coast Guard lights the new one at the end of the pier,” Dale said. “They’re stationed in Grand Haven.”

  She wrinkled her nose. “Are they the water police?”

  Dale choked back a chuckle. “I suppose you could say that,” he said. “They’re a branch of the military. You know what that is?”

  “Army guys,” Michael said.

  Dale smiled. “Sort of.” He turned to Bev with a whisper. “But don’t let them hear anyone call them that.” He couldn’t help but chuckle at the kid’s curiosity.

  Bored with the door that wouldn’t open, Michael moved ahead with Kristin on his heels, heading for the pier’s end where the new, squatty building now served as the harbor’s beacon. Dale and Bev followed behind, keeping their eyes on the children.

  “I don’t understand you,” Bev said.

  Her comment brought Dale to attention. “Don’t understand what?”

  “Why you agreed to come today, and why you’re so natural with the kids. You’ve taken the time to answer their questions, and you’ve really been nice.” An embarrassed expression swept across her face. “I mean you’re nice, but you’re not usually relaxed with them.”

  Dale hadn’t come along to be with the kids. He’d come to be with her—to impress her, really—but how could he tell her that? Dale shrugged. “Kids are kids. They’re curious. I answered their questions.”

  Her expression indicated she figured there was more to it, but she didn’t press the issue. Instead she changed the subject. “Why haven’t you married, Dale? Is it because of kids?”

  Her blunt question struck him like a bullwhip, coiling around him with a sting. What could he say that wouldn’t offend her? He grasped at the only thing he could. The truth.

  “It’s not kids. Not totally, and I’ve already told you. I believe in ‘until death us do part.’ I don’t want to make a mistake, and my parents’ marriage has been a model for me. I don’t know if I have it in me to make that kind of self-sacrificing commitment for a marriage or for children.”

  Bev’s curiosity sank to disappointment. “I can’t believe that. I remember you talking about people having one soul mate, but it’s got to be something deeper than that. You have such a capacity to love. I see it in your relationship with your parents. You have so much to offer. I just don’t understand.”

  He gave up and realized he had to be honest. “It’s fear.”

  “Fear?”

  “Love turns friendship into a right arm.”

  Bev frowned. “What does that mean?”

  “I can live without a friend. But I can’t bear the thought of losing my right arm. Life changes. I would experience a loss that’s incomprehensible. My mother is a perfect example. If I never love, I’ll never feel grief again.”

  Bev let out a lengthy sigh that rose above the din of wind and water. “Dale, I can’t believe you’re saying this. You’d rather be without love to avoid sorrow.”

  “They’re inseparable, aren’t they? Love and sorrow. They go hand in hand.”

  Her face twisted with dismay. “Please, don’t say that. Look at my mother. She loved my dad with all her heart. She’s smiling again. Her life has purpose. I lost a husband, but I’m smiling again. I have a meaningful life.”

  “Smiling, maybe, but you’re not married now either. Why not?” She seemed to crumple at his question, as if today was the first time she’d seen the similarity. “Don’t tell me no one has shown interest in you. I won’t believe it.”

  “Well, you can believe it, Dale. I’ve never dated. My kids have been my life since Jesse died. I know three years is a long time, but to be honest, life’s almost easier now. I only have two people to worry about, and they have to listen to me—at least most of the time. Jesse didn’t or he wouldn’t be dead.”

  Her voice carried such emotion that Dale wished he could roll back the clock and delete what had just happened. “I’m sorry, Bev. I’m not trying to drag up your past. I was just trying to make a comparison.”

  Her eyes looked misted, and he didn’t know if it was from the memories of her husband or his comments about love and marriage. He grasped her arm and slowed her to a stop. She avoided looking into his face, and he touched his fingers to her chin and eased her to focus on him. “Let’s change the subject, okay? It’s a lovely day, the kids are having fun and we have a picnic to eat. I don’t want to add tension to what’s been a tremendous day.”

  Though her eyes were facing him, he saw she wasn’t giving him a direct look, but she gave him a single nod. “You’re right.” She finally focused and sent him the flicker of a smile. “Some other time.”

  “Some other time,” he agreed. He wrapped his arm around her and drew her closer. “We both have things to think about.”

  She tilted her face upward, and this time her smile seemed warmer and more sincere.

  Surprising himself, he bent and kissed her temple.

  Bev didn’t pull away, but raised her hand and pressed it against his cheek. The feeling rolled through him like a tidal wave, and he struggled to keep himself from kissing her mouth.

  When Dale turned his eyes from Bev, he noticed the children had reached the end of the pier. They came bounding back toward them, eager to start back. Both moaned that they wanted to eat their lunch and see the sand sculptures.

  Dale and Bev turned back while the kids scurried on ahead, but Michael decided to make it a race. Before anyone could stop them, Kristin let out a screaming protest as Michael set off, passing her in a heartbeat.

  Fearing the slippery, uneven pier, Dale dashed off after Michael with Bev trying to keep up with him.

  “Michael,” Bev called. Her voice was lost in the pounding of the waves against the pier’s foundation pillars.

  Michael remained in the lead, the shoestrings of one of his sneakers whipping around his ankles as he ran. Fear struck Dale, but he’d noticed the laces too late. “Michael,” he yelled, not caring whether Bev was angry at him.

  Michael didn’t hear or heed Dale’s call. He glanced over his shoulder and barreled ahead. As Dale watched, the boy stepped on a lace and toppled forward, stumbling along the pier toward the railing.

  Dale shot forward like a dart, a prayer—his first in years—rising to heaven. As Michael skidded along the edge, Dale reached toward the boy and clutched Michael’s arm, jerking him to a sudden stop. Without thinking, Dale drew the boy into his arms, feeling tears push behind his eyes. “Why don’t you listen?” he yelled. “You could have been killed.” He�
�d never forgive himself if the boy had gone over. Not only was the lake deep, but cables and concrete pilings were hidden beneath the water.

  Michael seemed to understand. He clung to Dale until Bev reached his side.

  Fear had frozen on her face, and she pulled Michael into her arms in a tight hug. “You scared me to death,” she whispered into his ear.

  “I didn’t mean to,” Michael said, as if afraid of being punished.

  “I asked you to be careful,” Dale said. “I just thank the Lord you’re okay.”

  Michael eased back and gave Dale a downcast nod. He knew he’d not listened earlier, and Dale hoped he’d learned a serious lesson. Before the boy took another step, Bev tied his shoelace into a double knot.

  Once the shoe was tied, they all joined hands and walked—slowly this time—until they reached the end of the pier and stepped into the sand.

  The children dug into the spread of food Bev had brought along, and after their picnic, Dale guided them down toward the water where they could view the amazing sand sculptures. Although excited about the sand castles, forts and abstract designs, the kids were enthralled at a mermaid created high on the beach away from the waves that surged to shore.

  When they tired, they returned to the picnic table. The children carried water from the lake in soda cans to the sand nearby and created their own sculptures. Though they crumbled and toppled as they worked, the activity occupied them while Dale enjoyed the quiet moments with Bev.

  He had accepted that he and Bev were friends, and each minute together had been important to him. She was a bright spot in his stressful life. “I’m having a great time today, but I’m also feeling guilt.”

  “Why?”

  “I should have spent the time with my mom and dad.”

  She dragged the toe of her sneaker through the sandy soil. “I think they understand.”

  “They do, but I don’t. I’m thinking about taking a leave and coming back home for a while.” He was surprised he’d blurted his thread of an idea.

  “A leave?” Bev shielded the sun from her eyes and gazed at him. “Why now?”