by Lois Richer
“They’re fine, Grant,” Dahlia assured him softly. “And thank God, so are you. That blood on your jacket scared the daylights out of me.”
“It was just a scratch,” he assured her for the tenth time. “Nothing to worry about.”
Her eyes met his. “I do worry about you, Grant. All the time.” Then she shyly broke the connection.
Grant loved her concern for him. For just a moment he wished he had been injured enough that she’d fling her arms around him so he could feel Dahlia’s embrace again and savor the sweet caring she’d lavished on him at the hospital, until the doctors had reassured her he wasn’t injured.
Glory nestled against Arlen’s good arm, as if to reassure herself that he was all right. Arlen patted her shoulder. A moment later Grace copied her sister, snuggling next to the boy.
“Why did you jump in front of the bear, Arlen?” Grace’s blue eyes gazed at him with adoration. “You got hurt.”
“Your dad was too far away,” Arlen explained. “I knew he couldn’t get there fast enough. I couldn’t let that bear near you.” He smiled and tickled her under the chin.
“He could have eaten us,” Grace said in a whisper.
“Nope. You and Glory are too small to make a good bear dinner,” he insisted.
“But your arm’s hurt,” Grace said.
“I’ll be fine, I promise,” he told the girls.
Grace peered up at him. “Did you save your sisters like that?”
“No.” Arlen fell silent, staring at his food.
It seemed the twins understood his silence, for they simply rested against him. Then Glory soberly invited him to play with them.
“Maybe later.” His smile didn’t reach his eyes. “After I finish my pizza. But you two should build a tower with those awesome blocks. I’d like to see that.”
They checked to be sure he was serious then nodded and, holding hands, walked to the toy area. “Will you tell us what happened to your sisters, Arlen?” Dahlia rested her hand on his arm. “It might help to talk about it.”
Arlen studied her for a long time. But Grant saw no malevolence in his gaze, just inexpressible sadness.
“You can tell us,” Grant urged.
Arlen finally nodded.
“We were going on a picnic.” He pushed away his plate and leaned back against the seat. “Mom said I could fish. She only had a few hours off until she had to go back to work the late shift at the diner so we were hurrying, me most of all because I loved fishing and I could almost feel them nibbling on my line. It was one of those perfect summer days when it seems like nothing can go wrong.” His voice cracked.
Grant noticed that Dahlia’s eyes were already brimming with tears.
“I rushed my sisters into the car and told them to do up their seat belts while I got my tackle and stowed it in the trunk. I got in the front seat. I remember asking them if their belts were on,” he said, then paused, his throat working as he fought to regain control of his emotions. “They said yes. Then Mom got in and we took off.”
His voice cracked and he stopped. Under the table, Grant slid his hand into Dahlia’s and held on. Neither of them said a word. This was Arlen’s moment. They waited for him to regain his composure.
“We’d only gone a block when a truck ran a stop sign and hit us. My sisters were thrown from the car.” He gulped. Tears coursed down his cheeks. “They died and it was my fault.”
“Oh, honey, how could it be your fault?” Dahlia whispered.
“I should have known their belts weren’t fully latched. It happened before. I should have known to check even though they said they’d fastened them.” He dashed the back of his hand across his face to obliterate his tears.
“Arlen, sweetie—” Grant loved the tenderness in Dahlia’s voice.
“It was my fault. My mother said it over and over.”
“Oh, sweetie.” Dahlia reached out and touched his cheek. “Your mom needed to lash out at someone in her grief. She didn’t mean it. It’s just something she said in the heat of the moment.”
“No.” He shook his head. “After the funeral she told me she never wanted to see me again. She hates me. I hate myself!” He jumped up and rushed outside. The twins noticed and rose, frowning.
“Can you get the girls home and to bed, Dahlia?” Grant asked. “I need to talk to him, to help him deal with his feelings.”
“Of course. The twins will be fine.” She pressed his arm when he hesitated. “Go, Grant. He needs you and you can help him.”
“Thank you.” He squeezed her shoulder, and in a rush of understanding, he now knew the feeling hidden inside him was love.
Love for this wonderful woman.
He grabbed his tattered jacket and shrugged into it. As he pushed through the door into the pouring rain, Grant suddenly stopped.
What would he do when Dahlia found someone special to fill her life with? When he had to manage on his own without her behind him, backing him, supporting him?
Then Grant knew the truth.
He couldn’t let that happen.
Somehow, someway, Grant had to keep Dahlia Wheatley in his life.
Permanently.
“Give me the right words for Arlen, Lord. And about Dahlia…” He let his heart speak for him, knowing God would understand.
Chapter Fourteen
“Thank heaven the rain has stopped.” Dahlia rang up Grant’s purchase order for the sleds he’d chosen for the twins for Christmas.
“When she offered me a job, Laurel never said anything about a rainy season. I think my house might float away if it continues,” Grant teased with a smile.
“It’s not normal for Churchill to have rain at the end of November, especially so much of it,” Dahlia assured him. “Climate change I guess.”
“There is a lot of water.” Grant’s smile bathed her in comforting warmth but it couldn’t dispel the urgency she felt to get the project completed. “I guess it’ll eventually sink in.”
“All I need is one nice warm day to dry off the track. Then we can get a kart on it. It’s not for me,” Dahlia defended when he grinned. “Everyone who has contributed to the project needs to see results for all their fundraising efforts.”
Grant didn’t say anything as she handed him back his credit card. His odd expression confused her. Why did he keep staring? She reached up and patted the combs that held her curls in place. Grant’s steady regard was scrambling her train of thought.
“I never did get a chance to ask you about your talk with Arlen,” she said. “How did it go?”
“He struggles to forgive himself, so of course he doesn’t believe anyone else can. But I believe he’s changed enough during his time at Lives that he’ll be able to accept what happened. Perhaps one day soon he’ll be able to let it go.”
“You have quite a talent for reaching kids’ hearts, Grant Adams,” she said in a soft voice but meaning every word. “We’re blessed to have you in our town.”
“I’m a blessing to you, Dahlia?” he teased with a wide-eyed, pretend-innocence look.
“Oh, stop. And yes, you are. And you could be even more of a blessing,” she told him, loving this repartee between them.
“Tell me more.” He leaned his elbows on the counter and cupped his chin in them.
“I’m planning on going to Lives early tomorrow morning before the store opens. I’ll check out the track. If it looks okay, the boys can take out that kart they’ve repaired and give it a run on Sunday afternoon. Want to come with me?”
Grant smiled. “To see your dream become a reality? I wouldn’t miss it.”
His words nearly made her heart sing. “Want to bring the girls over for dinner?” she asked without thinking.
“Tonight? But you’ve been working all day,” Grant protested.
Dahlia shrugged. “I put a chicken in the slow cooker at noon so making dinner isn’t a big deal.” His hesitation made her add, “Please come. I’d appreciate the company.” She swallowed past the lump in her throat. “My brot
her died twelve years ago today.”
“I’m so sorry, Dahlia.” He reached out and covered her hand with his. His reassuring voice warmed the cold, sad part of her heart that still mourned.
“Of course we’ll come,” he said, adding, “The girls will love it.”
Dahlia found herself hoping that he was going to love it, too.
Her mind drifted back to the night he’d asked her to marry him. It seemed like a long time ago now. How long would their friendship last if another woman came into the picture? How would she feel?
What were they doing?
Dahlia drew her hand away on the pretext of handing him his receipt though she really wanted to hang on and pretend she had the right to.
“I hope Glory and Grace love the sleds,” she said, trying to get her mind back on track.
“They will. Christmas is coming so fast.” He smiled. “A year ago I couldn’t have imagined how my life would change.”
“Neither could I.”
How could she have imagined the difference Grant and his twins would make to her world? His gaze held hers. “Your staff is watching us.”
Dahlia grinned. “I know.” Let them stare. Grant made her feel special and Dahlia didn’t want that to end.
“You probably need to get back to work if you’re leaving early. And I have some more errands to run while the twins are practicing for the Sunday school Christmas concert. See you at six-thirty?” He murmured the last part in a whisper so her staff couldn’t hear.
Her heart thumped at the gentle glow in his eyes.
“Perfect.” Dahlia kept her gaze on him until he went out the door. She busied herself counting receipts, urging the clock to hurry toward six-thirty.
Her eagerness to have dinner with Grant was silly. She wasn’t what he needed. But she ached to share his life, to know he’d always be there. Until he distanced himself, Dahlia intended to enjoy every moment she had with him.
She locked up the store a few minutes before six, something she’d always before refused to do. At home, she hurried to shower and change, choosing her most flattering outfit. She set the table carefully, with candles and Granny Bev’s best dishes, to make the evening special.
Everything Dahlia did now was for Grant. He was in her heart.
When she opened the door and saw him standing there, her pulse skittered. “Welcome!”
His hand rested against hers when he handed over his coat. The contact sent a rush of longing straight to Dahlia’s heart. She hid her emotions as the twins enveloped her in hugs. If only this was her family. If only she deserved them.
“Are you sick, Dally? You look funny.” Glory peered into her face.
“You’re supposed to say she looks nice,” Grant said with a rueful shake of his head.
“I’m fine, Glory. Just thankful to have you here.” She brushed through the silken curls with her fingers. “Did you have a good day?”
The twins told her about the concert practice at church, and their parts in it. It was a glorious meal, full of intimacy and sharing, as if they were a real family. And through it all, Grant sat watching her, his gaze warm. But when Glory could no longer smother her yawns and Grace nodded off while eating her last bite of the chocolate cake Grant brought, Dahlia knew they’d soon leave.
Loneliness waited to engulf her.
Grant went out to warm up the car and returned shivering.
“The car’s thermometer says it’s minus thirty-two,” he said frowning. “Can that be right?”
“Of course not.” Dahlia chuckled. “It was raining when I got up this morning. Even in Churchill the temperature doesn’t drop that fast.”
“I guess I should get it checked.” Grant started to dress the weary twins.
“This will keep you warm, Grace.” Dahlia tied her scarf. “Can I have a hug good-night?”
Tiny arms slipped around her neck as a tired voice mumbled good-night. Glory, who usually wiggled nonstop, barely moved between yawns.
“Poor things.” Dahlia let them go and rose. “Time for bed. Thanks for coming, Grant.”
He stared into her eyes for a long moment. Then he stepped forward to lay his hand against her waist. “Thank you for a wonderful evening, Dahlia.”
He kissed her—a gentle, bittersweet kiss that made her want to weep when he finally drew away.
Dahlia could barely catch her breath as she stared into his gentle gray eyes.
“I’m tired, Daddy. Does Dally need another good-night kiss?” Glory asked.
Dally did, but she only smiled as Grant gathered one girl in each arm and went out into the cold.
Then the door closed behind him and she was left alone with one question.
Why had Grant kissed her like that?
*
Kissing Dahlia like that had rocked Grant’s world so badly, he held an all-night vigil to figure out the state of his heart. By morning he was no clearer on how he’d fallen in love; he only knew that it would not go away even if he wished it so, which he didn’t.
His feelings for Dahlia were not the same as those he’d had for Eva. He’d lost the desperation that once plagued him. He didn’t need Dahlia to rescue him or teach him or save him. Grant needed Dahlia because his life wasn’t complete without her. He wanted to share special moments with her. But mostly Grant wanted to fill her world with joy as she filled his.
He loved her.
With a sense of wonder, he prayed for understanding. He knew that God had blessed him because he’d never expected to feel like this about anyone.
Wasn’t it about time he told her how her felt?
While the twins slept, Grant savored his first cup of morning coffee and planned how he’d tell Dahlia what lay in his heart. He wasn’t a romantic man, but romance was what he wanted for her.
He stood to put his cup in the sink and checked the thermometer. Minus forty degrees? Immediately his thoughts went to Dahlia’s track. How had it fared in such cold after so much rain?
Grant set down his coffee. He couldn’t let Dahlia go look at it by herself. If something had happened she’d be decimated. He needed to be with her, to support her, to do whatever he could to help.
How quickly Dahlia had become part of his heart, his world, and hopefully his future.
He picked up the phone and dialed. “Lucy, would you be able to come watch the girls this morning?” Only after her groggy voice agreed did Grant realize that it was far too early to phone anyone on a Saturday morning.
But Lucy made it in half an hour, and Grant arrived at Dahlia’s house just before eight o’clock. Her truck was running, the windshield clear of frost. As he waited for her to emerge, Grant prayed wordlessly that when he told her how he felt, she’d return his feelings.
In the midst of his pondering, Dahlia stepped outside and pulled her front door closed. She was drawing on thick gloves when she saw him. Her eyes widened. Grant climbed out of his car and tromped over the icy ground toward her.
“What’s wrong?” she asked.
“Nothing. I’m going with you to check out the track. Okay?”
“Sure.” She didn’t look at him as they climbed in the truck, but Grant put it down to shyness after their kiss. “The ice will come into the harbor now,” she murmured. “The polar bears will soon hibernate. Then they won’t hurt anyone else.”
“Yes.” Grant hated the thread of worry in her voice.
Oh, Lord, help, his heart begged.
As they drove to the track, Grant was conscious of tension between them. In silence, they bounced and jounced over the frozen hillocks of tundra until they came to the track. Carefully Dahlia eased her truck onto the asphalt they’d resurfaced. She drove slowly.
“Everything seems okay.”
Grant thought so, too, but worry lingered. As faint traces of morning light began to penetrate the gloom, he peered through the windshield, trying to more fully assess the condition of the track.
Suddenly Dahlia jammed on her brakes. She struggled for a moment t
o control the sliding vehicle until the wheels found traction and jerked to a stop.
“Oh, no,” she gasped.
Grant’s breath stopped. Unwilling to accept what he saw, Grant got out of the truck and walked several yards. His heart sank to his toes. A huge section of jagged pavement had heaved upward, probably due to freezing and swelling in the soggy permafrost beneath. The track would have to be completely rebuilt and repaved.
Dahlia’s voice was stark with pain. “I couldn’t make it happen.”
“Now you’re responsible for the weather?” Grant couldn’t stand to see her so defeated. “You did your best.”
“It wasn’t enough. It never is.” She trudged back to the truck, climbed inside and waited until he joined her before she turned around and drove back.
“So you don’t believe God’s in control?” he asked when they’d reached the edge of town.
“If He is, where is He now?” Anger tinged her voice.
“Right here. Always has been.” Grant couldn’t bear to see Dahlia’s faith weaken when she’d been such a bulwark to him in his worst moments. “Just because this didn’t turn out as you wanted doesn’t mean He isn’t in it. God has a plan, Dahlia. You helped me see that, remember? Nothing you’ve done for the boys will be wasted. Somehow He will use this.”
She pulled up in front of her house, shoved the gearshift into park and turned on him.
“I don’t need platitudes, Grant,” she said, her voice tight. “That track was my dearest goal and God abandoned me when I counted on Him most. It’s just like with my parents, all over again. They’ll arrive to see that once more, poor Dahlia wasn’t strong enough.”
“But you haven’t failed,” Grant insisted. “This isn’t over yet. You’re talking yourself into defeat before the game is finished.”
“I am finished. I’m out of money and time.”
“God isn’t.” He grasped her shoulder, turning her to face him. There were tears clinging to her lashes. He caught them on his finger, feeling her pain as his own. “Dahlia, this is the job God laid on your heart, right? Don’t be intimidated because things haven’t gone the way you wanted.”
Her lips pressed together. “I didn’t do this only for me— The boys are going to be crushed, Grant.”