Loving Promises

by Gail Gaymer Martin

  Bev disliked the empty feeling she had when Dale wasn’t around. She’d warned herself not to open herself to a man, but she hadn’t listened.

  Nothing made sense anymore, and Bev knew she depended on the Levins too much. But what could she do now? The feeling of family and their friendship had turned her and the children’s life into something warm and comforting.

  Looking into the front window of Loving Treasures, Bev perused the display. Handbags made no sense for Dotty. Evening shawls, flowery umbrellas, costume jewelry—she let the items filter through her mind. She figured Claire would have some ideas and pushed open the door.

  A bell tinkled above the door, and as she stepped inside, Claire came sweeping from the back room. Though the woman toned down her garb at church, today she appeared to have stepped out of a Hawaiian movie. Wrapped in a tropical-print muumuu, she had a hibiscus pinned in her long, flowing red hair.

  “How nice to see you,” Claire said, gliding silently across the floor.

  Bev sent her a smile, wondering if Claire was barefoot to capture the mood of her wardrobe. Peeking down to the floor, she glimpsed at ballet slippers. “I need a birthday gift for Mrs. Levin,” Bev said.

  “Hmm?” Claire pinched her bright-orange lips and raised her gaze toward the ceiling. “She doesn’t get out much, I know.”

  “Rarely. Sometimes into the backyard and this week Dale’s taking her to the butterfly festival at Hoffmaster Park.”

  “Butterflies.” Claire’s voice lifted with the word. She spun around and sailed toward a display counter. She fluttered through a stack of colorful scarves until she found what she had in mind. Like a magician, she tugged the silk cloth from the pile in a dramatic sweep and waved it in the air. As it settled on the counter, Bev could see the butterfly design in brilliant shades of blue, orange, sienna and red.

  “Perfect,” Claire said. “A lovely scarf to wear encapsulating the memory of the special day.”

  Bev studied the bright fabric and agreed it was both practical and frivolous. “I like it, and I think Dotty will, too.”

  Claire’s face glowed as she carried the scarf to the register, wrapped it in tissue and slid it into a bag. “You make such a wonderful family. It’s so nice to see you all together in church.”

  “We’re not exactly a family,” Bev said. She knew she’d better stop any speculation before the idea traveled and caused someone grief. “My mom works for the Levins.”

  “Yes, but I can see the love you all share. Your little boy’s latched on to Dale Levin like a father figure. I’m sure you’ve noticed.”

  Bev squirmed with her comment. Once Dotty… She let the word fade in her thoughts. Death wasn’t something she wanted to think about now. She’d recently returned to the land of the living, and she had no desire to spend her time wallowing in grief again.

  Bev managed a smile. “You know children. They take advantage of anyone who shows them attention.”

  Claire eyed her as if she had something to say but realized she’d make no progress saying it.

  Bev opened her wallet and handed Claire some bills, curious as to what the woman had on her mind.

  Claire made change and laid it into Bev’s palm. “There you go.” She closed the register drawer and stepped from behind the counter. “I’m sure Dotty will be pleased with the scarf. It’s such a shame she’s deteriorated so quickly. I know it’s hard on Al.” She adjusted one of her long colorful earrings. “I enjoy seeing him smile again. Your mother has turned his life around. Before she came, Al broke my heart.”

  “Mom and Al are old high-school friends,” Bev said, concerned that Claire was reading something into the relationship.

  “Yes, I know. Old friends are a special breed.”

  Bev gestured to the package. “Thanks for the gift idea, Claire.” She backed toward the door, her mind heavy with their conversation.

  “Come back again. I can always come up with something that makes a lovely gift.”

  “I know you can,” Bev said. She opened the door and stepped outside, drawing in the warm, lake-scented air. She could hear the bell tinkle behind the glass as she closed the door. Her steps were hurried as she headed for the car. Bev wondered if she should caution her mother that her closeness with Al might breed speculation.

  Bev’s parents had been very close and always loving. Bev’s marriage hadn’t been at all like her parents’. It had seemed wrought with stress. Now her mother had stepped into another loving relationship with Al and Dotty. They adored her, and her life was full. Bev’s relationship with Dale seemed thwarted with problems and tension. Why?

  It didn’t seem fair.

  But then, no one said life was fair.

  The warm July sun shimmered from the concrete sidewalks as they made their way through Hoffmaster Park. Dotty had loved the butterfly-print scarf when she’d opened the gift. She wound it around her neck, and the colors brightened her face. Today she looked more healthy than she had the last few times Bev had seen her.

  They moved along the concrete paths, the children skipping on ahead, with Mildred beside Al as he pushed Dotty in the wheelchair. Bev and Dale settled behind them, enjoying a private moment. They wandered through the Gillette Visitors’ Center and the butterfly garden, enjoying the colorful insects fluttering from flower to flower, occasionally even landing on the visitors.

  Dale surprised Bev by pulling her away from the others into a quiet lane. He guided her behind a broad tree trunk, then rested his hands on her shoulders and drew her close.

  “Thanks so much for being part of this day. My mom loved the scarf, and I’m so happy you’re here.”

  Bev wondered what had gotten into him. She studied his face, addled by the look in his eyes. “You don’t have to thank me, Dale. I wouldn’t have missed this for the world.”

  “You’re amazing,” he said, raising his hand to brush strands of hair from her cheek.

  She felt the coolness of his fingers against her warm skin. Bewildered, she lowered her gaze, shy at his touch and the look in his eyes. The sunlight filtered through the leaves making dappled patterns on the ground. The fluttering of light and shadow patterned the same trembling in her chest.

  When she lifted her head, Dale’s gaze captured hers. “You add sunshine to my gloomy life, Bev.”

  Bev saw it happening. His mouth moved toward hers almost in slow motion. She held her breath, amazed at the sensations that charged through her. As his lips touched hers, the warmth and tenderness rolled across her like a gentle breeze.

  When he drew back, a look of longing glinted in his eyes, and she felt the same within her heart. If only her life weren’t so complicated. If only his weren’t so filled with confusion. If only…

  “We’d better get back,” he said, taking her hand and drawing her into the sunlight.

  Moments passed before Bev caught her breath, before she realized he’d really kissed her. She wished it could have lasted forever.

  Ahead, she saw Al pushing Dotty’s wheelchair, and she noticed the children craning their necks, probably looking for her. She hurried along so they wouldn’t worry, and as she neared, Bev caught sight of Michael reaching toward a butterfly with its colorful outstretched wings.

  “Don’t touch it, please,” she said to Michael. “If you brush the powder from its wings you can harm it.”

  Michael leaned closer and studied the insect. “What powder?”

  “The color on their wings is their scales, and it’s like powder. It helps them fly. So you have to be very careful.”

  He eyed her as if he didn’t believe what she’d said, and she suspected as soon as she turned her back he’d brush one of the wings to check it out.

  “Your mom’s right,” Dale said. “Butterflies can be injured when you touch their wings.”

  Michael’s expression altered, and he listened as if Dale were the authority. The situation irked her, but she kept her mouth closed. Michael’s behavior had improved, and she didn’t want to jeopardize the c
hanges.

  “Do you like the butterflies?” Al asked, approaching Michael from a distance behind them.

  Michael nodded. “You can’t touch their wings or they can’t fly.”

  “Good for you,” Al said. “Most young fellows don’t understand that.”

  “Dale told me,” Michael said, grinning while Bev stewed.

  As Bev watched Michael, he slipped his hand into Dale’s, and Dale held it without maneuvering away. Her heart gave a lurch, validating what she already knew. As much as Dale meant to her, she’d allowed their relationship to go on too long. Her children were so open to being hurt.

  “Dotty’s getting tired,” Al said, grasping the handles of her wheelchair and turning it to face the exit. Mildred joined them and moved on ahead with Kristin clinging to her grandmother’s hand.

  When Bev’s attention returned to her son, Michael faltered a moment. “Will we ever have a dad?” His gaze drifted from Dale back to Bev.

  Bev’s heart stood still, and she felt her breath leave her. She took a moment to draw in some air. “You have a dad, Michael.”

  “He died, Mom.”

  “But he’s still your father.” She turned her gaze away from his pleading eyes.

  “I mean will you ever get married so we can have a new one?”

  “I don’t know,” Bev said, mortified by her son’s question. “I doubt it.”

  Michael’s expression faded to disappointment, but in a heartbeat, he rebounded. “But you don’t know for sure.”

  She gave him a steady gaze, willing him to quiet.

  “You never know life, Mom,” Michael said, as if determined to get the last word in on the subject.

  You never know life. His words poured over her like a cold shower. Life was always full of surprises for which she had no control. She picked up her pace, wanting to run away from her son’s questions and Dale’s probing look.

  Dale stood in the doorway of his mother’s bedroom watching her uneasy sleep. The day had been almost too much for her. She tired so easily that he was keenly aware this activity could be one of her last.

  Dotty shifted and opened her eyes. “Where is everyone?”

  “Dad went to the pharmacy for a few minutes to check on some things and the others went home.”

  “I’m sorry,” Dotty said. “I get so tired now.”

  “I know.”

  “But I had a wonderful day, Dale. Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome, Mom.”

  She patted the mattress beside her. “Sit with me. I’d like to talk.”

  He ambled forward. “Shouldn’t you rest?”

  “I had a catnap. I’ll sleep again soon, but once in a while, I feel the need to talk about…things.”

  Dale’s stomach knotted. What kinds of things? He slid onto the edge of the bed and took his mother’s hand in his.

  “Millie’s a wonderful woman, Dale. When I see your dad and her together, I can’t fathom why they weren’t a couple in their younger years.”

  “It wasn’t meant to be, Mom. They were friends.”

  “But can’t you see the way your father’s eyes light up when Millie’s here? She’s good for all of us. She makes us cheerful and keeps us from thinking about…about the future.”

  “Mom, please—”

  “Dale, it’s difficult, but we need to talk about these things. I don’t want to head off to heaven without saying some things that are in my heart.”

  Dale cringed, hearing his mother’s request. He didn’t want to talk about the future. The present was difficult enough. He studied his mother’s face and saw the need reflected in her eyes. “Go ahead, Mom.”

  She squeezed his hand. “Dale, I want your father to find a good Christian woman to make his life complete again.”

  He opened his mouth to protest, but his mother’s look forced him to halt the words that rolled to his lips.

  “Millie would be a perfect wife for your father. I’ve given it a lot of thought.”

  Nausea churned in Dale’s stomach. He didn’t want to listen to his mother plan a romance for his father. The whole topic roiled inside him.

  “Don’t balk at this, please. I mean it. They share so much. They share a past, and now they share the present that’s given us comfort. I know that the Lord has plans for your father’s future. I can see it.”

  “Mom, you can’t plan Dad’s future. I know you like to take care of us, but this isn’t the way to do it. Let’s just focus on the present and—”

  “And you, Dale. I’ll never have grandchildren now, but I’d like to think that someday little souls will be born that are part of you. And if they’re part of you, then they’re part of me.”

  Her words ripped at his heart, and he had nothing to say, nothing to stop her from speaking her mind.

  “Bev is a wonderful woman. I believe she’d make a loving partner and a good mother, and she has those two darling children.”

  Her look stopped him again.

  “I’ve seen the good influence you’ve had on the boy. He needs a father, and he dotes on you, Dale. You’re a hero in his eyes.”

  Hero. Dale felt about as far from a hero as he could get. He was a coward, really. He feared his mother’s death. He feared commitment for the same reason. He had nothing to offer a woman like Bev. Though she’d seemed to enjoy his kiss earlier, he knew she had no long-term interest in him. She’d made that very clear.

  Michael adored him, and Dale deserved none of it. All he could do was hurt the boy even more than life already had.

  So what should he do now?

  Dale fiddled with the piles of paper on his desk, his mind everywhere but on his job. He’d been weighted by his mother’s words since her birthday. He didn’t want to hear what she had to say, and he resented the thought of another woman walking into his father’s life. Mildred had no business bursting into their lives and creating tensions at a time that was sensitive for them. Dale found the idea of a romance between Mildred and his father disquieting and couldn’t believe his mother was contriving a relationship while she lay on her deathbed.

  He’d also been rattled by Michael’s conversation the same day. When the boy had asked Bev whether he’d ever have a father, Dale had panicked. The child had looked at him as if he were the answer. Dale had hoped never to be put in that position. He should have known that a kid wouldn’t understand a friendship without thinking it had greater commitment. Sometimes he didn’t understand it either.

  Wisdom told him to get out of the situation even though he and Bev got along well. He enjoyed her company, and for the first time in many years he felt relaxed and content with a woman. Bev was easy to enjoy, but he wanted no part of a lifelong commitment.

  Sometimes he played mind games by asking himself “what-if?,” but as quickly as the question settled into his thoughts, he removed it. No what-ifs for him. He wanted no part of the heartache of a love relationship.

  With Mildred still hanging around and caring for his mother, Dale felt tossed into the situation. How could he avoid Bev and her children when they were drawn into the family setting by his mother’s or father’s invitation?

  The best he could do was stay away from them, and he’d tried. For the past three weeks, he’d avoided going home for the weekend. Instead, he’d dropped by for a couple of hours on Saturday or Sunday. He’d even missed visiting for the Fourth of July. No one needed him anyway. Mildred had taken over. She’d filled all of their needs, and Dale felt useless. Yet how could he continue to avoid going home with his mother so ill?

  The telephone jarred him, and he snatched up the receiver, startled when he heard his father’s voice.

  “What’s wrong?” Dale asked, his heart in this throat.

  “I called to ask the same question. You’ve been coming home so faithfully on weekends, but you didn’t show up this past week, not even for a few hours. I just wondered if you’re okay.”

  The call coming so quickly on the heels of his thoughts set him on edge. “I’m
fine, Dad. Sorry. I should have called.” He tapped the pencil’s eraser against his blotter as he scurried for something plausible to say. “I’m tangled in a special project here, and I’m afraid it might be another week or so before I can get home.”

  “I’m disappointed to hear that,” his father said. “Your mother misses you, but I understand. Your life goes on.”

  While his father’s life halted. He finished the implication of his dad’s words. Guilt slid over him like thick oil, turning his mood black.

  “I’ll see what I can do in another week or so. I should have things caught up by then.” He hated the lie; it was not so much a lie as a half truth. He was busy, but that was nothing new. He could find the time when he needed it. If his mother died while he was playing hard to get, he’d never forgive himself. Dale flinched at the possibility.

  “Don’t push yourself, Son,” his father said. “I know it’s difficult to work and handle the pressures at home. Your mom asked about you, and I thought I’d better call.”

  “I’ll telephone her tonight when I have a moment, Dad, so she’s reassured.”

  “Thanks. She’ll feel better.”

  Dale listened to his father’s words, feeling shame and sadness. His father needed support, not a son who couldn’t handle his own problems and took a coward’s way out.

  When Dale hung up the telephone, tears pushed behind his eyes, and he lowered his head in his hands. What can I do? he asked himself. Words filled his head. Stand firm in the faith; be men of courage; be strong. Do everything in love. He recognized the Scripture. Bev. Since her prodding, he’d been reading the Bible and had touched on those verses a couple nights ago. In God’s subtle way, the message he needed had been at the tip of his memory.

  Be men of courage. He’d been so lacking in that. He’d lived in fear since he’d watched his mother go downhill, and he’d struggled with relationships since then. What had happened to his faith?