Love Worth Finding

by Cathy Marie Hake

  “Consider it payback for teaching me how to bat.” She sighed dramatically. “You’ll probably have to teach me all over again once we start up the team after the break.”

  “Count on it. Those games were a great excuse to see you.”

  “I’ve missed you so much, honey.” She switched the phone to her other ear and clamped it in place so she could thread a new roll of paper into the cash register.

  “How much?”

  Laughter bubbled out of her. “Oh, no you don’t. Last time we played that game, you talked me into going on a second camping trip.”

  “And we had a great time. You’re becoming quite the outdoorswoman.”

  “Well, we can’t go camping this weekend anyway. My summer sale just started, and Jim and Katie are moving.”

  “Moving?”

  “Um-hmm. He proposed at that special restaurant and everything is falling right into place for them. The apartment they wanted came vacant, so he snapped it up.”

  “They’re going to live together?”

  Della swung the little side door on the register shut, and it gave a satisfying click. She advanced the tape with several chings and said, “Yes. Katie’s okay with it. After all, they are engaged now.”

  “Humpf.”

  “And you used to think I was so old fashioned!” Della smiled. Brandon let her know he found her more than appealing, but he never crossed the lines she set. It made her feel cherished and respected.

  “You are.” He paused. “And I see a lot of wisdom in those old-fashioned values.”

  “If nothing else, it kept us both alive. Daddy or my brothers would do something rash if we tried living together.”

  “Well, we have nothing to fear.” The sound of his boots thumping up wooden stairs accompanied his words. “When our time comes, we’re going to do everything right. Listen, Babe, I need to go. See you tomorrow.”

  “Okay. I love you, Brandon.”

  “Love you, too. Bye.”

  After she put down the phone, Della couldn’t resist spinning in a jubilant whirl. He hadn’t said if their time came. . .he said when. In the past few weeks, he’d been dropping bombs like that, and every one of them shook her world.

  Brandon didn’t make false promises. He didn’t just blithely make comments and off-the-cuff remarks. When he said something, he meant it. He loved her. He wanted to be with her—not just for right now, but also far, far into the future. And now, he’d given her another hint that he wanted to make her his forever.

  What more could a woman want?

  She opened a file on the computer and looked at the newest styles. As if the computer knew all about her phone conversation with Brandon, the very first thing she saw took her breath away. There it was—the perfect wedding gown. The one she would have designed for herself. Clear down to the details on the hem, it matched everything she’d ever dreamed of. Delighted, she gazed at it and followed her impulse. She e-mailed off an order for it—custom-made to her own measurements.

  ❧

  Brandon slid his arm around her shoulders and nestled Della close. “Nippy breeze tonight.”

  She wrapped her arm about his waist. “But you’re always nice and warm.”

  They walked along the sidewalk, toward the park on Balboa Island. The movie they’d decided to watch was only showing at the small theater on the island, and it had been a mad dash to get there on time. He’d managed a hasty shower and changed out of his work jeans into chinos, but Della still wore one of her dress-for-feminine-success silky outfits.

  Navy brass lived on and around the island. In fact, naval personnel tended to frequent the theater and restaurants here because of the quaint, intimate atmosphere. That being the case, men Brandon knew by sight, but not by name, passed by. Their gaze would go from him to Della, slow smiles would sketch across their faces, and they’d look back at him and give a nod of silent approval.

  Yes, Brandon felt proud of his woman. Della was a looker—but even more, inside, she held a beauty that mattered most. Let the other guys eat their hearts out. Della belonged to him.

  “Hungry now?”

  She laughed. “Are you kidding?”

  “I promised you supper.”

  “After that huge vat of popcorn?”

  “That little snack?”

  “If that tub were any bigger, they’d have to put it on the oceanographic charts as a newly discovered gulf of something-or-other.”

  “Sounds interesting. We could be the first to explore it. Have you ever gone sailing?”

  “No, but I’d go anywhere with you.”

  His hold tightened slightly. Thank You, God. I prayed for a chance, and this looks like a good one. “Really? Then how about coming to church with me this Sunday?”

  “You’re going to church? You just went to that thing at the stadium three nights this week.”

  “Yeah, I did.” He stopped. “I’m glad I did, too.”

  “Okay.” She didn’t bat an eye. “If it makes you happy, I’m okay with it. I can’t go to church, though. I already promised Katie I’d help her unpack and hang pictures. I have to keep my word.”

  “Some other time. Soon.” He looked at Della steadily.

  “Yeah. I do go every once in a while with Van. If I’d go with her, then you know I’d go with you.”

  “Thanks, Della.” He kissed her softly. “That means a lot to me.”

  She stood on one leg and used the top of her other foot to rub the back of her calf.

  “I wanted to talk with you about something important.”

  Twelve

  She reached up and rubbed the back of her neck. “Yes?”

  Brandon brushed her hand away. “Mosquitoes eating you?”

  “I don’t know. I don’t think so.” She shuddered. “All of the sudden, I itch all over.”

  He tugged her under a light post. One look, and he whistled under his breath. “Babe, you’ve got a primo crop of hives starting. What are you allergic to?”

  “Nothing.”

  “You’d better be, or you’ve got some kind of kid disease.”

  “I can’t.” She chafed her arm. “I had all my vaccinations.”

  He yanked out his cell phone and dialed. “Doc. Dry. My girl’s got hives.”

  “I don’t need a doctor!”

  Brandon’s eyes narrowed to deny her assertion as Doc started pelting him with questions. “Yeah. Breathing’s fine. No, she says she’s not allergic to anything. Okay. Gotcha. What kind of antihistamine?” His cell phone bugged out.

  “Aargh!” Brandon dialed again, but he got no response. “Come on.” He grabbed her hand and started striding toward the corner.

  “Brandon!”

  “Yeah?”

  “You may be Daddy Longlegs, but I can’t go that fast—especially in heels.”

  He swept her into his arms and kept walking.

  “Your shoulder!”

  “Is fine. Stop fussing.”

  She wound her arm around his neck. “What are you doing?”

  “Taking you to the drug store. We’re getting you an antihistamine, pronto.”

  “Now who’s fussing?”

  “I’m responding, not fussing.” Traffic was light, so he didn’t pause or go to the corner.

  Once he stepped out into the street, Della squawked, “You’re jaywalking!”

  “Nope,” he said as he sped up. “I’m jay-jogging.”

  She held on tight. “You’re going to get us killed.”

  He stepped up on the curb and shouldered past a few pedestrians and into the drug store. “Babe, as long as you’re in my arms, I’ll die happy.”

  Someone clapped him on the back. “Hey, Dry. I think that counts as PDA.”

  Brandon glanced over his shoulder. “I won’t deny the affection, but this isn’t a public display. It’s an emergency.”

  “Man, if emergencies look like that, I’m gonna have to become a doctor like my mama wanted me to.”

  Della laughed self-consciously
. “Hi. I’m Della.”

  “She has hives,” Brandon tacked on as he headed down an aisle.

  “Grant Luvelle.” Grant followed in their wake. “Get calamine lotion. My sister always used it. She’s allergic to blueberries.”

  Brandon stood in the middle of the aisle with Della in his arms. “Two bottles.”

  “You can put me down, Brandon. I can walk.”

  His eyes narrowed. “How are you breathing?”

  “Just fine. My only problem is, I itch.”

  He put her on her feet, grabbed the calamine lotion, and ordered Grant, “Go get a basket and the pharmacist.”

  “Aye-aye!”

  “Water,” he muttered to himself. He raised his voice. “Lurch—toss me a bottle of water!”

  Della yelped as a bottle shot through the air in a perfect spiral that would have done any quarterback proud.

  “You need this to wash down the pills.” He cranked off the lid in one savage wrench.

  “Pills? Just how much stuff do you have in mind?”

  “Whatever it takes.” He scanned the shelves and started filling his arms with products that looked promising. “Hey, Lurch—what’s taking so long? Where’s that pharmacist?”

  “Shhh, Brandon. I’m okay. Really.” Della tried to take a box of pills from him and shove it back on the shelf.

  He picked up that box again and the one next to it for good measure. “Behave yourself.”

  “Lurch?”

  Figuring it would be a good idea to keep her distracted, Brandon nodded. “Luvelle’s handle. The man can get anyone, anytime, on the radio.”

  Clenching her hands together to keep from itching, Della bobbed her head. “Oh, I get it—after the guy on the Addams Family.” She dropped her voice and intoned, “You rang?”

  “Oh, man, she really must be sick if that’s the best impersonation she can manage.” Lurch marched up with a white-jacketed man. “Help’s arrived.”

  “Ahhh.” The pharmacist squinted at Della and nodded. “Diphenhydramine.”

  “Gesundheit,” Della said.

  Lurch cackled. Brandon glowered at him then focused back on the pharmacist. “Do I have it?”

  “No, no. It’s not a disease. It’s a medication.”

  Della got the giggles.

  “I mean, do I have the dye-pen-hydrant stuff here?” He jerked his chin toward the gear he’d grabbed.

  “You must. You’re holding half the store,” Lurch said.

  Della laughed harder.

  “At least you’re breathing well, young lady,” the pharmacist said. “That’s good. Do you have any allergies?”

  “Of course she does,” Brandon snapped in exasperation. “Why do you think she looks like that? Let’s get the show on the road here.”

  The pharmacist exhibited calm that would have impressed Brandon under other circumstances. Now, his demeanor only served to irritate him because the man simply wasn’t sufficiently impressed with the gravity of Della’s condition. “Did anything sting or bite you?” the pharmacist asked Della.

  “No.”

  “Did you just eat anything unusual? Change to a new soap?”

  Della and Brandon exchanged a look. “The—”

  “—hot dog,” he groaned. “Babe, I’m so sorry.” Thinking the yellow stuff in the big pump-top container next to the catsup was mustard, he’d covered their hot dogs with it. Her eyes almost popped out of her head when she took her first bite. He’d teased her about having a sissy mouth, so she took a second bite before he robbed her of it, ate it, and got popcorn.

  “I had some double jalapeno nacho cheese sauce,” Della told the pharmacist. “Only a little.”

  “It doesn’t take much if you’re allergic.” The pharmacist ignored everything Brandon gathered. He stooped, took a small box from the lowest shelf then grabbed another type of stuff from above it. “I have it in the regular and non-drowsy variety.”

  “We’ll take both.”

  Della reached over and helped herself to the box that proclaimed Non-drowsy in screaming red letters. “I’ll take one of these.”

  “Nope. Take the regular ones,” Brandon insisted. “You need to sleep through this ordeal. You can take the non-drowsy ones tomorrow.”

  “I’m not going to need them tomorrow!”

  “Just in case.” Brandon popped one out of the package and had her take it. He grabbed the basket from Lurch, filled it with everything he’d collected, and asked the pharmacist, “What else does she need?”

  “I’m telling you, you have half the store there already,” Lurch waved toward the basket. “As long as you have calamine lotion, you’re set. Oh—and cotton balls. To dab it on.”

  “It’s unnecessary.” Della patted Brandon’s arm. “Really, I’ll be fine.”

  “You’ll be fine,” the pharmacist agreed. “But keep her hydrated.”

  “I have water right here.” Della lifted the bottle. “He takes good care of me.”

  “The diphenhydramine will work shortly. Drink plenty of water and get some rest. You’ll be fine, come morning.”

  Brandon’s cell phone rang. “Yeah?” He frowned at the pharmacist. “My man said she needed to take Benadryl. Where is it?”

  “She took the generic.” The pharmacist scowled. “You navy guys. If you’re going to call your medic, why do you bother to ask my opinion?”

  “We never go in without backup,” Brandon rapped out. “Thanks for the help.”

  “Yes, thank you,” Della chimed in. “I think I feel a little better already.”

  Brandon snorted. “You look worse.”

  Lurch followed them toward the register. “Keep it up, Dry. A few more sensitive comments like that, and I’ll be here to catch her when she boots you out.”

  “I don’t wear boots,” Della declared promptly. “He’s stuck with me.”

  “You don’t happen to have a sister, do you?”

  “No such luck,” Brandon said tersely. “Two big, ugly brothers who are almost as big a pain as you.” He chucked a box of Popsicles into the basket then added Della’s favorite candy bar.

  Della gave up protesting. She let out a long-suffering sigh and scratched her elbow. Brandon opened the Popsicles and stuck one in her hand. “Eat that instead of itching. It’s good for you.”

  By the time he walked her up to her door, she’d started yawning. “Is your bedroom air conditioned?”

  She shook her head.

  “You need a fan. Do you have a fan?”

  “Ceiling fan. I’m fine, Brandon.”

  “You go on up and take a cool shower.” He’d already planned out the rest of the night. She’d take a shower and put on her swimsuit. He’d cover her with a whole bottle of the calamine then pour more fluids into her. After that, if her breathing was still okay, he’d let her go to sleep. On the couch. With him sitting across from her, keeping watch.

  Smart. Safe.

  Besides, he was scared out of his wits. Really, hives were a minor annoyance, but with Della—well, even the little things mattered a lot. Hey, God? I’m not very good at this prayer stuff, but could You please make Della better?

  “Brandon, are you going to turn the key or not?” Della’s baffled tone broke into his prayer. He nodded, and she asked, “What were you thinking?”

  “I was praying.”

  She yawned again. “Any port in a storm.”

  The time wasn’t right for him to tell her. He’d wanted to take time tonight to share his newfound relationship with Christ—to let her know how incredible salvation was. To invite her to discover it for herself. Then everything would be perfect.

  Thirteen

  “So Daddy threw him out at one o’clock and threatened to melt the fuse box at his place if I ever get hives on a date again.” Della thrust one last book onto the shelf.

  Katie laughed. “Your dad would do it, too! Here. These go on the next shelf.”

  “I don’t know.” Della accepted the next stack of books and started putting them
in place. “Daddy’s finally getting the idea that Brandon’s going to stick around.”

  “I’m not looking forward to what my dad’s going to say when he finds out Jim and I are living together.”

  Sliding a Bible onto the bookshelf, Della said nothing.

  “But it’s really none of his business. It’s just between Jim and me,” Katie said. “And we’re engaged. Besides, he and Mom aren’t together, so it’s not like they’re exactly experts on successful relationships.”

  Uncomfortable with the topic, Della shrugged. “That’s it for the books. I thought you wanted me to help get the kitchen set up.”

  “I already lined the cabinets, so we can dive right in. With all my school loans and stuff, money’s tight, but I found this little dollar store that had the neatest organizers. Come on!”

  Nesting. . .setting up a home of her own. Della felt a surge of excitement. Brandon mentioned Nathan’s construction firm’s next major project would be a housing tract. The high school retrofit and expansion had only two weeks’ work to go. How long would it take to get the houses built?

  “You know that plastic tub we used for a sink when we went camping? Valene got me five more from the hospital.” Katie knelt by the sink. “I thought they’d be great to hold my cleaning supplies.”

  “Valene gets them for Vanessa to use at the pet shop, too.” Della opened a small, heavy box and peered inside. “Hand me the spare ones to hold the packing peanuts around your china.”

  “Isn’t my china beautiful? I talked Jim into buying some. We only bought four place settings because it’s so expensive.”

  “You can list it on your wedding registry.” Della carefully put the china in the cabinet Katie indicated.

  “Jim suggested we register for camping stuff. I’m not keen on the idea—I’d rather get things for our home. Who wants a tent when they don’t have a bedspread? Jim surprised me. He’s usually easy-going, but he dug in his heels. You know how guys are—they don’t like to borrow someone else’s gear.”

  “Brandon took me to a surplus place to get my sleeping bag. Jim can talk to him—he’d make sound recommendations on the sturdiest stuff.”

  Katie sat back and grinned. “You light up when you talk about him. Sounds serious to me.”