02_Groom of Her Own (11 page)

“Well, we can try again.”

“No,” he said quickly. At her surprised look, he amended his response. “I mean, not right away, anyway.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah.”

Sam shrugged. “Okay. If that’s the way you want it.” For some reason Sam wasn’t inclined to push him this time. In fact, she was almost relieved that things hadn’t worked out with Stephanie. Which was wrong, of course. But she couldn’t help how she felt

“I do appreciate your efforts, Sam.”

“Hey, no problem. What are friends for? I’m just glad you’re not mad. When I didn’t hear from you, I got a little worried.”

Brad sat down next to her again and closed his eyes, rubbing his forehead with the tips of his fingers. “I apologize for that. The week after that date was hectic, and for the last week I’ve had my father here visiting.”

“Does he still live in Jersey?” Through the years Sam had heard a great deal about Laura’s—and Brad’s—home-town in southern Missouri.

“Yeah. My mom died about six months ago, and Dad’s just never been able to regroup.”

“I’m sorry,” Sam said softly, reaching out to touch his hand.

“Thanks. It was hard on all of us. But I have my work, and Rebecca, my sister, has her restaurant in St. Genevieve, so life went on for us. But for Dad—well, Mom was always his main interest in life. They had a great marriage. Talk about two peas in a pod…” He sighed. “Anyway, he just kind of lost interest in everything when she died. Even his gardens, which were always his pride and joy. He hasn’t even touched them this year. Rebecca and I have been really worried about him. She gets down there as often as she can. But since she opened the restaurant about a year and a half ago she hardly has a minute to call her own. I finally convinced Dad to come up here for a week, thinking maybe I could lift his spirits a little. But I can’t say I’ve had much luck.” he admitted with a sigh. Then his eyes grew thoughtful. “Say, I don’t suppose there’s any chance you’re free tonight and would consider having dinner with a stodgy minister and his lonely old dad, would you?”

Sam stared at him, taken aback by the unexpected invitation. “Well, I don’t know…” she said slowly, her voice trailing off.

Brad gave her a sheepish grin. “Look, never mind. It was a dumb idea. I’m sure you already have plans. And even if you don’t, there are lots more exciting things you could do—like clean out your closets or vacuum the furniture.”

Sam smiled. “As a matter of fact, Brad, I don’t have plans tonight. And I’d love to have dinner with you and your dad. But he may not like having a third party there, especially if he’s feeling down.”

“Well, I think it would be good for him to meet someone like you,” Brad said. “You’re really great with people, and
I
always feel better around you. You have a knack for making me smile and feel lighthearted. Maybe you can do the same for Dad.”

Sam had a feeling Brad didn’t even realize that he’d just paid her a terrific compliment. Which was okay.
She
realized it, and that was the important thing. It was one of those lovely moments she intended to file away in her heart.

“I can certainly give it a try,” she said with a warm smile.

“Great!” Brad glanced at his watch. “Let’s see. It’s already four…how about if we pick you up at six?”

“Are you sure you don’t want me to just meet you somewhere?”

“I’d rather pick you up, if that’s okay.”

“But it’s not a date or anything.”

“Yeah, I know. Not too many guys would bring their fathers along on a date. I do remember that much,” he said with a grin. Then he grew more serious. “But with the world what it is today, I’d just feel better seeing you to the door afterward.”

“Well, sure, that would be great, if you don’t mind.”

“It’s my pleasure,” he said with a smile that warmed her right down to her toes.

“Is this going to be casual?” she asked.

“I think my dad would be more comfortable, if that’s all right with you.”

“Sure. I’ll just run home and change.” She stood up, and Brad followed suit, his gaze sweeping over her in a quick but appreciative appraisal.

“Too bad,” he said. “I like that outfit.” Sam was surprised—and ruffled—by the compliment She looked down and adjusted a button on her fitted short-sleeved tunic jacket, then smoothed down her short skirt She’d debated whether to wear low, comfortable shoes or dressier two-inch heels, and she was suddenly glad she’d chosen the latter, which emphasized the shapely line of her legs.

“Are you wearing that?” she asked, nodding toward his khakis, blue shirt and lightweight off-white cotton sweater.

“Yeah. I was planning to.”

“Then this is a little too dressy,” she said.

“I could change,” he offered.

She grinned, tilting her head to look up at him. “Do you like this outfit that much?”

He smiled. “Uh-huh.”

“I’ll wear it again sometime, then,” she promised.

“It’s a deal. But Sam…”

She looked at him curiously when he paused. “Yes?”

“I hope this doesn’t sound too forward, but…maybe you could wear one of those short skirts? They look really great on you.”

Sam stared at him in surprise, and a warm tingle raced along her spine. “Are you sure a minister should be asking a woman to wear a short skirt?” she chided teasingly, trying to keep her voice light…and steady.

“No,” he promptly admitted. “But they suit you. And besides, sometimes when I’m with you I forget all about being a minister.”

She smiled. “You know what?”

“What?”

“Sometimes I forget, too.”

He looked thoughtful. “Maybe that’s good.”

“Why do you say that?”

“Well, I know your past experience with ministers hasn’t been great. Maybe we get along so well because you do forget. So it might be a good thing.”

“Maybe,” she said slowly. Then she frowned. She was letting herself get too carried away here, It would be in both of their best interests for her to
remember
his profession so she was reminded of the impossibility of anything ever developing between them. She reached for her briefcase and turned to go, suddenly subdued. “Then again, maybe not,” she said enigmatically. “See you in a little while, Brad.”

Brad watched her leave, puzzled by her last remark. Had he been too forward, after all? He probably shouldn’t have mentioned the skirt, he thought. In retrospect, it seemed out of line—and out of character. Maybe she’d gotten the impression that he wanted to change the status of their relationship from friendship to…something else. And maybe he did, he realized suddenly with surprise.

Brad frowned at that unexpected insight. Where on earth had that idea come from? Of course he was only interested in friendship. Sam wasn’t his type. Okay, maybe he found her physically attractive. No, he corrected himself. There were no “maybes” about it. He
definitely
found her physically attractive. He’d had hormones kick in around Sam that had lain dormant for six long years. But physical attraction wasn’t nearly enough to sustain a permanent relationship. And that was all they had, really. Or at least all
he
had. He had no idea whether Sam felt any attraction for him.

But what if she did? he suddenly wondered. An unbidden surge of adrenaline swept over him at the thought, but he quickly squelched it. Unfortunately it would never work between them. They were too different. Not that he didn’t enjoy being with Sam. He enjoyed it a lot. She was lively, and that was something he hadn’t had much of in his life. She was also attractive, intelligent, articulate, had a good sense of humor and was clearly a good person in many ways.

But even though her current social life was apparently much quieter than he’d imagined, he suspected that comparing the history of their romantic escapades would be like comparing Pollyanna to Madame Du Barry. His choices regarding intimacy had been grounded in a deep faith; hers…he didn’t know her motivations, but her rules had clearly been much more liberal than his.

Even beyond differing philosophies on intimacy, though, it would be very difficult for him to become involved with someone who didn’t share his basic Christian values, beliefs and life-style. Not to mention his strong faith. And Sam didn’t seem to, apart from a few remnants that had survived from her Christian upbringing. While he had no doubt that she was highly principled and ethical—admirable qualities, to be sure—those attributes alone didn’t make one a Christian.

No, Sam and he weren’t right for each other. There were too many obstacles in the way of a romantic relationship. And yet…he felt drawn to her. He couldn’t deny that. But what was he supposed to do about it?

Brad stood up in frustration and turned off the lights, then locked the door. Slowly he made his way upstairs, pausing at the church door. With a quick glance at his watch, he detoured inside and sat down in the last pew, bowing his head and closing his eyes.

Lord, I asked You to help me find the courage to put the past to rest and open myself to a new relationship, he prayed silently. With Your help, I’m making progress. But now I have a new dilemma. Sam. I certainly never intended to feel anything more for her than friendship. And I don’t want to now. But I forgot that the heart doesn’t often listen to logic. I really like her, Lord. And I think it could grow to more than that. But we’re so different… Could this possibly work? She says her reputation has been exaggerated, and I believe her. There is a sadness in her eyes, an honesty when she talks about it, that I cannot doubt. I believe that she’s a very special lady who hasn’t seen enough kindness or caring in her life. And I’d like to show her both. But I’m not sure how to proceed—or even if I should—beyond a friendship basis. Please, Lord, help me to discern Your will.

But no matter what happens between the two of us, Lord, help Sam overcome her disillusionment about her faith and find her way home to You again. Because I believe that is the only way she’ll find the lasting peace she seems to so desperately need.

Chapter Five

“I
hope you won’t be sorry,” Brad said with a frown as he guided Sam toward his car, his hand at the small of her back. “Dad wasn’t overly enthusiastic about having to carry on a conversation all during dinner with someone he’s never met. He’s gotten quieter and quieter these past few months. I’m afraid this could be uncomfortable.”

Sam grinned. “Don’t worry, Brad. I like a challenge,” she assured him.

His features relaxed. “Thanks for being a good sport. And for agreeing to have dinner with us tonight.”

“I think it will be fun,” she said optimistically.

“I hope you still feel that way in a couple of hours,” he replied dubiously.

They stopped beside the car, and a slight, thin man with fine gray hair climbed out of the back seat. Sam saw the resemblance immediately. Although Brad was a good four inches taller than his father, they had the same brown eyes and slightly angular nose. But while Brad’s stance was typically relaxed, his father held himself somewhat stiffly, as if he felt awkward and would rather be somewhere else.

“Dad, this is Sam Reynolds,” Brad said, his hand still at the small of her back. “Sam, this is my father, Henry.”

Sam smiled and held out her hand. “It’s very nice to meet you, Mr. Matthews. And thanks for letting me join you tonight for dinner. It’s not often that a woman gets a chance to go out with
two
handsome men.”

Her comment elicited only the smallest of smiles from Brad’s father as he took her hand. “How do you do, Miss Reynolds. I’m very happy to meet you,” he said politely.

“Thank you. And please call me Sam.”

“Well, shall we go?” Brad asked, opening Sam’s door. He gave her an I-told-you-so look as she slid into the seat, but she just winked and smiled confidently.

Brad’s father remained quiet, answering her questions politely but in as few words as possible, during the drive to the restaurant. She tried to draw him out as they perused the menu, with little success. So once they had ordered she decided it was time to unveil her secret weapon.

“So, Mr. Matthews, Brad tells me you’re a gardener,” she said conversationally.

“Used to be,” he replied, fiddling with his napkin.

“What do you grow?” she asked, ignoring the past tense.

“Roses. Perennials.”

“What’s your favorite rose variety?”

“Tea roses.”

“Hmm. Me, too. Do you have any Double Delights?”

For the first time he looked directly at her, his eyebrows raised in surprise. “A couple.”

“Best scent of any rose I’ve ever grown,” Sam declared, helping herself to a roll from the basket

He tilted his head and peered at her intently. “You grow roses?’ he asked.

“Uh-huh. And perennials, too. I have a little garden at the back of my condo. But I have a feeling yours is a lot bigger.”

Brad’s father shrugged. “It’s a fair size, I guess. Thirtytwo tea roses, and a couple of nice-sized perennial beds.”

“Thirty-two roses!” Sam repeated incredulously. “Gosh, I only have eight. And just a little strip of perennials. How long have you been at this?”

“All my life. I’ve always liked flowers. Lot of people don’t bother with roses, though. Say they’re too much trouble.”

Sam gave an unladylike snort. “Hmm. Spray them once a week, feed them once a month, cover them up for the winter—how hard is that?”

“That’s what I think,” Henry nodded in vigorous agreement. “They’re no trouble at all, considering they bloom all summer. What kind of spray do you use?”

As Sam and his father launched into a lively discussion about the merits of one kind of spray versus another, Brad just sat back and watched the exchange in awed amazement. He would never have tagged Sam, with her sophisticated clothes and perfectly polished nails, as a gardener. He was beginning to realize just what a multidimensional and surprising woman she was. With Sam, it was becoming clear that he’d better learn to expect the unexpected.

Such as this dinner. Brad would have laid odds that it would be a disaster, despite Sam’s outgoing nature and optimism. But, amazingly, she had done what no else had been able to—she’d drawn his father into an animated conversation and brought the sparkle and interest back to his eyes. She even got him to laugh. And as far as Brad was concerned, that was a miracle.