by Lois Richer
“Not quite.” Arlen sounded as choked up as Grant felt. He glanced sideways and saw that Dahlia was also moved.
“Your sisters know you didn’t mean to make a mistake.” Grace tipped her head to one side. “One time, Glory hit me. I was mad, but Mommy told me that love forgives and that I should forgive Glory.” She bent to look into his face. “That means I shouldn’t be mad at her or blame her.”
“I know.” Arlen swallowed hard.
“It means you have to forgive you,” Glory told him sternly.
“I’ll try,” Arlen promised, his voice choked.
A long silence stretched. Dahlia wiped a tear from her cheek, her smile tremulous. Grant couldn’t take the tension any longer. He rose and stepped through the doorway. It was either that or kiss darling Dahlia again.
“I doubt if you two are hungry enough for a big supper,” he said later. “How about I make cheese sandwiches?’
“Okay.” Glory threw her arms around Arlen’s neck. “And two for Arlen, ’cause he’s big,” she explained. “Dally, how many for you? Daddy makes them really good.”
“He’s a very special daddy, isn’t he?” Dahlia smiled at Glory; then her gaze slipped to Grant. Her cheeks pinked. “And Arlen is your special friend. Do you know how lucky you girls are?”
“Yep!” They grinned at each other. A moment later they huddled together on the floor to reexamine their birthday gifts.
Grant was about to turn away and begin preparing the sandwiches. But he paused to watch Dahlia move into the living room as Arlen rose from the sofa. The boy towered over her, but she didn’t look intimidated. She reached up and touched his shoulder.
“I wish I’d known your sisters, Arlen. They must have been special, too.”
He nodded, easing away from her touch but saying nothing. Grant had a hunch he was still choked up.
“The twins are right.” Earnestness filled Dahlia’s voice. “Your sisters loved you. They’d understand a mistake, whatever it was. We all make them. I did, too.”
“You? But you’re always Miss Perfect.” Arlen frowned. “What mistake did you make?”
“I wasn’t there when my brother needed me,” she told him. “I got sucked up in my own stuff and didn’t notice that he was desperate for my help.”
“What happened?”
Dahlia explained, but Grant could see the words cost her. Grant knew she was still trying to make up for not being there for her brother just as Arlen was still punishing himself for his sisters’ deaths.
“But can you forgive yourself?” Arlen asked after a long pause.
“I know that’s what he would have wanted so I’m trying,” Dahlia replied.
“Is that why you’re pushing this go-kart thing? Because of your brother?” Arlen’s question dared her to tell the truth.
“In a way.” Dahlia’s smile broke free, bringing Grant relief. “Partly it’s to show my parents. They never thought I was strong enough to take his place.”
“Why do you have to take his place? You have your own place.” When she didn’t answer, Arlen knelt down to talk to the girls.
Dahlia walked into the kitchen. She looked slightly dazed.
“Are you okay?” Grant asked.
“I’m not sure.” She set napkins at each place, but her attention was elsewhere. “Did you hear what he said? He said I have my own place. I never thought of it like that before.”
There were a hundred things Grant could have said to help her realize that she didn’t have to earn anything, but he let her muse on it alone. Dahlia had spent a long time trying to make others proud of her, but what she really wanted was to be proud of the woman she was. He had a hunch that discovering that for herself would be a major milestone.
“Are the sandwiches ready, Daddy?” Glory tugged at his leg.
“Just about. You and Grace go and wash your hands.” Grant flipped one sandwich, delighted when it landed perfectly in the pan.
“Daddy, look!” Grace squealed. “It’s snowing.”
Dahlia came back to life. She hurried to the window and peered outside. A groan seeped from her.
“Grace, will you ask Arlen to help you and your sister wash up?” He shut off the stove, waited until they were alone then walked over to Dahlia. “What is it? What’s wrong?”
“I tried to tell you earlier. I got a letter from my mother today. They’re going to come and visit to see the progress I’ve made.” She gazed at him. She didn’t need to say any more. He understood.
“You want to show them all you’ve done, to present a fait accompli,” he guessed. “With the snow covering, you won’t be able to do that.”
“Because I haven’t finished it, Grant. I’ve tried so hard but I just can’t make it work.”
“I know.” He gathered her into his arms, pressed her head to her should and just held her as she wept.
A moment later they both heard the twins coming and Dahlia broke free of his embrace, dashing the tears from her eyes.
“Please excuse me,” she said, her voice full of heartbreak. “I have to go.”
Though the twins and Arlen tried to persuade her to stay and eat with them, Grant said nothing as he helped Dahlia pull on her jacket. She said a quick goodbye then hurried away, trudging through the wisps of white that now covered the ground, a small, lonely figure in the vast outdoors.
Arlen said nothing for a few moments. When they could no longer see her through the window he glanced at Grant. “She’s upset the track isn’t ready, isn’t she?”
“Yes,” Grant said then added, “Her parents are coming soon. It’s a big deal to Dahlia to show them what she’s accomplished. Without the karts running on the track…” He wanted Arlen to seriously consider what this failure of this project meant to Dahlia.
“She asked me to help and I wouldn’t do it. I told her I was busy,” Arlen admitted, “but that wasn’t true.”
“Then why did you say it?” Grant asked.
“Because I was mad at her,” he admitted in a rueful voice. “She has everything. At least I thought she did. Everybody’s making a big deal about her and this track and how she’s pulling it all together and I thought, ‘Why should I make it easy for her?’” Arlen shook his head. “I didn’t realize the track was about her brother and her parents.”
“And now that you do?” Grant slid the sandwiches onto a plate and set them on the table along with a gallon of milk.
“I dunno.”
“You can still help. It’s not too late. There are still the tires to be painted. There’s lots left to do.” Grant didn’t want to press the boy. He wanted Arlen to want to help Dahlia, but all he could do now was pray for God to soften the boy’s heart. As they ate, the twins asked Arlen if he’d help them build a snowman tomorrow. Arlen shook his head.
“Sorry. I can’t. I think I’ll be painting some tires tomorrow.” He winked at Grant. “Laurel says the first snow in Churchill never stays.”
“I sure hope she’s right,” Grant said with a grin.
Arlen babysat while Grant went to the turkey shoot. By the time he returned home, the boy was sacked out in the spare room, where he’d stay until Grant took him back to Lives in the morning.
With everyone asleep, Grant sat in his darkened living room and stared out at the whirling snow, which had kept some of the turkey shoot crowd home. He worried that they hadn’t made enough to make Dahlia’s dream come true.
Grant struggled to pray as Rick had directed him. In the past he’d always held some part of himself back. Now he tried to release his distrust in God, for Dahlia.
Please, please make the snow melt so she can have her dream. Please? She’s worked so hard. Let her have that much.
This desperate craving to see Dahlia’s dream realized was confusing for Grant. Though he wanted the best for Dahlia, he was no longer sure that completion of the track was the best thing for her. He desperately wanted her to be happy. Actually he wanted to be the one to make her happy.
It had fe
lt so right to comfort her earlier, to be there to support and encourage her.
But Dahlia deserved a man who could love her and Grant didn’t have the ability to do that.
But oh, how he wished he did.
*
On Thanksgiving Day, Grant squeezed his eyes closed as he held the phone and listened. He had a lot to be thankful for today.
“Dahlia and the boys are going to be so happy,” he said into the phone. “Thank you. And happy Thanksgiving,” he said.
For a few moments he hugged the secret information to himself, relishing the response he knew he’d get when he made it public. Mostly he relished the thrill of telling Dahlia.
Grant stepped out the back door to inhale the crisp autumn air. The snow was long gone. Sunshine blazed across the land.
Dahlia. He could imagine the flash of gold that would shoot through her eyes before her dazzling smile appeared. He’d scarcely seen her since the twins’ birthday, but that didn’t matter. He just had to close his eyes and he could visualize her face. Somehow thoughts of her were always with him.
Grant had believed that keeping his distance would diminish his fascination with Dahlia, but he’d been so wrong.
Dahlia was embedded in every detail of his life. If he closed his eyes, he could breathe in her soft fragrance that reminded him of sunshine; he could hear her laughter. When his negative thoughts grew strong, he heard her voice chiding him to look on the positive side. The day dragged if Dahlia wasn’t there to share it. It was Dahlia’s smile he craved, Dahlia he wanted to be with.
What was this? Love?
No. Couldn’t be. Grant was certain he was capable of feeling love again. So why was he so attracted to her? Dahlia hadn’t coaxed him. By simply being herself, she’d become part of his life. Even if he wanted to, Grant couldn’t forget her. Dahlia was unforgettable.
Confused, Grant went inside and poured himself another cup of coffee. Then he sank into his chair perched in the kitchen’s sunniest spot.
Eva’s Bible sat on a nearby stand. He’d planned to study the fragile onion-skin pages many times since her death to find answers and yet somehow he’d never gotten past the first page of Genesis. He felt so guilty every time he looked at it that he’d almost decided to put it away, store it for the girls.
But Grant needed somebody to talk to and according to Rick, God was the one with all the answers. So he picked up the Bible, held the covers between his hands and let the book fall open. The seventh chapter of Matthew.
If you, being evil, know how to give good gifts to your children, how much more will your Father in heaven give good things to those who ask Him?
Gifts. For their birthdays Grant had given the twins tiny silver lockets with their names engraved inside. He’d wanted something lasting to cherish, so they’d feel cared for. The girls had seemed thrilled.
This verse said that God was better at giving good gifts than Grant was. Did that mean God could give the gift of love to him?
At the service yesterday, Rick had said that God was the giver of good gifts, that, “it gives Him joy to see His kids smiling and happy.”
Until Eva, Grant had never felt loved. He still didn’t understand it. How did one get to love another? To have love grow inside him—it seemed impossible. All he wanted was to make sure Dahlia was happy. Was that love? Grant read the passage again.
I don’t understand, God. Why would you love me? How can I be loved when I can’t love?
For the first time since Eva’s death, Grant examined their relationship, compared it to what he’d seen and heard among his new friends in Churchill and was stunned. His feelings for Eva had their basis in insecurity. They’d never had that sweet sharing of kindred souls. He’d accepted all Eva lavished on him. But what had he given back? He’d been so afraid to push past his needs, his fears, his problems to find out hers.
What a terrible deal Eva had made when she’d married him.
Grant glanced at himself in the mirror across the room and reminded himself that whatever he felt for Dahlia, he couldn’t let anything come of it.
The doorbell rang.
“Hi, Rick. Come on in. I was just thinking of you.”
“All good, I hope. Are you busy?” Rick followed him to the kitchen.
“The twins are at the hotel with Laurel and Dahlia, making pies for the big Thanksgiving dinner tonight.” He poured Rick a cup of coffee and freshened his own. “I’m supposed to go there to peel potatoes in an hour or so but I’ve got time to chat till then. What’s up?”
“You’re on potato detail, too, huh?” Rick chuckled.
“I just got a phone call from Kyle and thought I’d share with you. He’s got the final tally on the turkey shoot. We did well.” The figure Rick quoted made Grant’s brows rise. “Think Dahlia’s going to be happy?”
“If she isn’t, my news should do it. I had a phone call from a man who’s willing to donate his garage for as long as it takes the boys to get the go-karts running, and he’s offered his expertise as a former mechanic.” Grant high-fived Rick. “Now all we need is enough money to pay for transporting the go-karts from Thompson.”
“Taken care of, pal. Laurel approached the government to cover transportation of the karts to Churchill as part of therapy for the boys. They agreed.” Rick grinned. “God is really blessing Dahlia’s idea. Now, if the weather holds until the karts are operational, it might all come together before a freeze up.”
“God giving good gifts to His children,” Grant murmured. Seeing Rick’s quizzical look, he explained the verse he’d just read. “But why? That’s the thing that keeps stymieing me. Why would God love us so much?”
“Well, why do you love Grace and Glory?” Rick asked. “You’re not related by blood. They must have made you change a lot of your life. As sweet as they are, I’m sure they aggravate you sometimes. So how can you love them?”
“I just do,” Grant admitted, slightly surprised to realize how naturally those words came. “They’re my kids.”
“Same with God,” Rick said. “Love is love. Giving of yourself, caring for someone else more than you care for you, being willing to let go of what you want most to make another happy—that’s love. God gave it to us so we could enjoy each other. As much as we might think we must aggravate God by failing to understand His love, He doesn’t give up. His very nature is love.”
“And all we’re supposed to do is accept it?” Grant felt stupid for asking, but he desperately needed to get this straight.
“Love is a verb. It does.” Rick smiled. “Part of love is accepting it, but the most rewarding part of love is giving it.” Rick raised an eyebrow. “What’s troubling you?”
Grant needed to understand love as it pertained to a relationship with God. Maybe that would help him be the father God expected. Maybe if he understood love, he could figure out his feelings for Dahlia.
So Grant asked all the questions about faith and fatherhood he’d never dared voice. At first he was embarrassed to show his ignorance, but Rick’s explanation about God as a loving father helped Grant come to terms with his terrible memories of life with his father. He also understood why Eva’s love had been the start of his healing.
Because Rick offered quiet understanding, Grant felt able to reveal the deep-seated fear he kept inside.
“What if I’ve inherited the abuse gene from my father?” He looked down, disgraced that he even needed to ask. “What if I end up hurting the girls.”
“You haven’t so far, have you?” Rick asked in a stern voice.
“No. And I don’t ever intend to, but I do mess up, forget things, have a short temper.” He couldn’t look Rick in the eye. “I got angry at the twins the morning of their party.”
“Why?”
“They spilled icing all over themselves, the kitchen and the floor.”
“Did you hurt them or yell at them or make them cry?”
“No, but I scolded them,” he admitted shame-faced.
“Because making
a mess was something your father hated.” Rick’s gaze intensified.
“Yes. It was the same at Dahlia’s when we were making cookies. Flour everywhere, cookie dough stuck on everything. I almost lost it.”
“But you didn’t lose it. You stuck it out.” Rick shook his head. “That’s the difference, Grant. That’s why you’ll never be an abuser. Abusers put themselves first and pretend it’s for their kid. Real parenting is putting your kid’s needs first and your own needs last. That’s what you’re doing.”
“But it doesn’t come automatically,” Grant murmured in confusion.
“Why would you think it should?” Rick sounded amused. “You’ve never been a father before, have you? Or practiced on some other kid?”
Grant shook his head.
“Did you always know how to teach life skills?” Rick asked.
“I took lots of courses. But there’s no manual for fatherhood. Everything is trial and error, and some of my errors might be bad for the twins.”
“Then you’ll apologize and do better.”
“You don’t understand,” Grant muttered. “It’s not that easy. I’m not like Dahlia. Parenting comes so easy to her. I just mentioned the twins’ birthdays and she was full of ideas. I didn’t have a clue where to start.”
“Nobody said fatherhood was easy. And Dahlia is amazing, that’s true.” Rick smiled. “But God didn’t make her responsible for the twins. He gave you that job.”
“Exactly.” Grant huffed out his frustration.
“You’re questioning God’s decision?” Rick grinned at Grant’s chagrined look. “Parenting isn’t a sure thing for anybody. Take me. Cassie eased into parenting her son, Noah, but I didn’t. The day I married her I became Noah’s father. No training. But I am his father and I have to do my best for him. So every day I pray for God’s leading, do the best I can and leave the rest in God’s hands.”
“Maybe I need to buy another book on parenting,” Grant mused.
“You already have the best one there is. The Bible.” Rick’s face sobered. “Study it. Check your ideas against what it says. Consult with other parents. But most of all, pray for guidance. God knows what you’re going through. He’s a father, too, and His kids get into far more trouble than yours.”