A Bride at Last (16 page)

C
lint wearily rubbed his eyes. This Thursday had been one of the longer days of his life. He had come directly to the office from the school, preferring to work rather than think about what had just happened tonight.

With a sigh he picked up the letter he’d received that morning from the newspaper’s lawyer. Skyline hadn’t filed anything yet, but their lawyers were still threatening.

He didn’t know whether to ignore the threat or worry about it. The accountant’s report and the lawyer’s letter dealt with different aspects of the business, but they both said the same thing. A prolonged battle with Skyline would put the newspaper so far into the red that Clint stood to lose everything.

Clint dropped his head against the back of the chair, thinking of how quickly the evening had changed. He had left his meeting with high hopes
and an eager expectation of seeing Nadine, of spending time with her. That she was gone when he came had been disappointing. But what that belligerent woman he’d met at the gym had told him had made everything turn completely around.

From the sound of the E-mail he’d just seen on the computer, Nadine was bound and deterrnined to bring Skyline to justice, regardless of his wishes and needs. He thought he had laid out the consequences for the newspaper, thought he had given her enough reason to back off. But obviously it wasn’t enough.

Did you think she was so terribly in love with you that she would give up a six-year battle just because you asked her to?

What could he possibly think he meant to her after spending a few evenings together? Nadine had made it quite clear what she thought of him, from the first time he stepped into this office.

Surely he hadn’t imagined the way she’d looked at him when they’d shared a meal, the way she’d seemed to drift back against him when he came to her office? Too vividly he remembered how she had willingly gone into his arms that evening in the car. Surely her reaction was more than gratitude?

The timing of this week’s meetings was terrible. How badly he had wanted to stay Monday and reinforce the fragile bond begun the evening before. He and Nadine had had no chance to solidify their relationship, if indeed they had one.

Clint got up and pulled his tie off, threw it into a corner and rolled up the sleeves of his shirt. Hands
in his pockets, he walked to the window, staring past his blurred reflection to the meager light of the streetlights. Was it only a few months ago he had stood here with a sense of eager expectation, a realization that his life had come if not full circle, then at least to a point that he knew he should be? It was as if God had been slowly pushing him here by cutting off some opportunities and opening others. His job at the city newspaper had changed, become unsatisfying. Uncle Dory, out of the blue, had offered him his share of the business.

He had found out that Nadine was still single.

Clint leaned his forehead against the glass, the coolness soothing his tired head.

For a few days he’d thought his life was coming together, that it was finally getting some kind of cohesion. He had a business he loved and the affection of a woman who had been on his mind for years, a woman who was a Christian, a soul mate. It was as if all the things he had been seeking were there in one neat package.

And now it looked as if he was going to lose it all.

The refrain of a song drifted through his head. “All to Jesus I surrender, all to Him I freely give…”

Clint rolled his forehead against the glass. Too simplistic, he thought.

Surely it wasn’t wrong to want to run a healthy business, to take care of it, to take all necessary steps to make sure that his employees had a job? He had
tried to keep the newspaper in perspective, to keep a balance with his faith and his work.

Could Nadine say the same thing?

He straightened, shoving his hand through his hair. Easy for him to judge her. He still had his father. He and Clint didn’t speak often with each other and had never been really close, so Clint didn’t know how he would have reacted had his own father died under questionable circumstances.

But revenge? If that indeed was what Nadine wanted?

Clint shook his head and rubbed the back of his neck. He didn’t want to judge Nadine. He wanted to love her. He wanted to take care of her. He wanted to show her that love and he didn’t know how to do it

Yes, you do.

Clint paused, the voice pulling him up short. It had come from his own thoughts, his own conscience. On a hunch, he walked over to his briefcase and, hunkering down, opened it. He hadn’t unpacked it after his meeting and had taken it into the office after his aborted date with Nadine tonight.

In one corner of it lay his Bible. Clint took it out, closed the briefcase and straightened.

Still standing, he thumbed through the New Testament until he came to Corinthians. Then, with one hand in the pocket of his suit pants, the other holding the Bible as it lay open, he began to read the words that had struck him so many years ago.

“Love is patient, love is kind, it does not envy,
it does not boast, it is not proud. It is not rude, it is not self-seeking….” Clint paused at that one. Was it self-seeking to want to see his newspaper post a profit? His lawyer had consistently warned him against a battle with Skyline because of the cost, not because of the right or wrong of it.

Clint continued reading. “Love does not delight in evil, but rejoices with the truth. It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres. Love never fails….”

Clint read on and then closed the book with a soft sigh. He ran his thumb over the worn edges of the pages, riffling them as what he had just read settled into his mind, finding the right places, a solution that would neatly fit.

And as he thought, Clint realized that in order for anything to fit, he would have to let go of some of the things he held too tightly. He would have to trust. It seemed too easy and it seemed too hard at the same time. Maybe it was a test, and if he passed, he would get whatever he wanted.

Clint laughed lightly at his own thoughts, at the idea of a small person like himself trying to find a way to entice God into giving him what he wanted, provided he played the game right. He laid his Bible on his desk, slowly sat down and closed his eyes in prayer.

Nadine sighed and rolled over. Six o’clock in the morning. The sun was barely up and she was wideawake. Had been since five o’clock. And since five
she had tried to find a way out of going to the office. It would be so much easier to stay home, avoid Clint, everything.

Again and again she relived the evening, imagining different scenarios—cutting Chantelle Hayward off, coming home on time and sharing the letter with Clint. Or not showing up at the gym at all and spending a delightful evening with Clint.

Finally she threw the blankets back in frustration and stalked to the bathroom. She didn’t care if she woke Grandma up. She had to do something instead of lying in bed castigating herself for being so shortsighted.

Her anger at herself simmered through her shower, as she got dressed. She took extra care, pulling out an outfit that Sabrina and Leslie had chivied her into buying last spring. Narrow gray corduroy pants, snug T-shirt also in gray topped with a collarless tunic in an unusual shade of apricot that complemented her brown hair.

Nadine finished toweling off her hair and blew it dry, deciding to let it hang loose.

The way Clint liked it.

The kitchen was still dark when she tiptoed into it. She pulled out an apple, poured herself a glass of milk and ate her breakfast leaning against the counter behind her. Nadine was thankful that Grandma still slept The last thing she wanted right now was a postmortem on what had happened last night. Bad enough that she would be seeing Clint in a few hours.

She drove to the office, and as she parked her car in her stall in the back of the building, she noticed with a thump of her heart that Clint was at the office already. With a feeling of apprehension, she unlocked the back door and walked down the darkened hallway past the cubicles of the copy editors. One of the computers was on in a cubicle, the screen saver bouncing around on the screen. Frowning, Nadine walked over to it and hit one of the keys. The E-mail program was on, and Nadine saw that the article she had written last night was on the screen.

Clint must have turned it on, she thought, her heart sinking. She had forgotten she had sent it as a backup.

She looked around, wondering where Clint was now. Then she walked past the darkroom and down the hallway to her office.

Pausing at the door, she glanced up the hallway to the front entrance and Clint’s office. His door was open, but the room was dark. Puzzled, Nadine took a few steps closer.

A figure was slouched over the desk, one arm flung out.

In the early-morning light filtering in through the window she could see it was Clint. His head moved slightly, disturbing the papers underneath him.

He was sleeping.

Clint shifted and Nadine turned to leave, but he only sighed and settled again. Feeling like an intruder, she stepped into the office, closer to his desk. She watched him a moment, his hair falling across
his forehead, his soft lips slightly parted. His firm jaw was stubbled, the collar of his shirt open. His one arm was flung across the desk, his other hung down, inches away from her. He looked vulnerable and utterly appealing. Nadine felt a gentle ache in her heart as she thought of all that she could have had and then, without thinking, reached over and carefully brushed his hair away from his forehead, her hand lingering on his cheek.

She didn’t expect his eyes to open, and she froze as the hand that hung down reached up and caught hers.

“Hey, Nadine,” he murmured as he blinked and slowly sat up, still holding her hand. He smiled blearily. “Come here,” he said, his voice husky from sleep as he rose from his seat and tugged her toward him.

Surprise and shock threw her off balance and he easily pulled her into his embrace. His arms came around her, his chin rested on her head and she felt his chest rise and fall in a protracted sigh. She couldn’t relax, knowing she needed to leave, not wanting to.

“Don’t say anything,” he murmured, holding her close, rubbing his stubbled chin on her hair. “I like this dream better.”

You have to go, Nadine told herself, cherishing the feel of his arms around her, being surrounded by the warmth of him. You can’t stay here, this isn’t right, she thought. But she closed her eyes, allowing herself this one moment of wish fulfillment, this
brief taste of might-have-beens. She let her hand slip around his neck, allowed her fingers to lightly touch his hair as she finally relaxed in his embrace. She felt so secure, so accepted, so cherished simply being herself.

She loved him.

The words began as a small thought but then, as she closed her eyes, they grew until they were so close to her lips, she had to say them. “I love you,” she whispered in a voice so soft she wasn’t even sure she had spoken them aloud.

She swallowed the lump in her throat and then, turning her head away from him, slipped out of his embrace and stood in front of him.

But his hand still held hers. Puzzled, she turned, only to see him staring at her with perfectly focused eyes, no sign of sleep clouding their piercing gaze.

Unnerved, she pulled on her hand again, but Clint held fast.

“What’s happening, Nadine?” he asked.

She could only stare at him, aware of what she had just done. “I’m sorry,” she whispered finally.

“For what?”

His quiet question hung, echoing lightly in the silence of the office.

“Everything,” she said softly, looking down at their intertwined hands, unable to pull her hand free and unwilling to as she realized he had been fully awake when he’d held her so close a few moments ago. “Standing you up last night, not being honest with you…” She stopped, unable to say more.

His hand lifted her chin, cupping it. His eyes met hers, his mouth curved up in a half smile. “You’ve done nothing to be sorry for.” He stepped closer, then, without any warning, he bent down and touched his lips to hers.

Nadine felt herself sway toward him, and her hand came up and rested against his wrinkled shirt, as if to support herself. Then his arms were around her again, his mouth on hers.

It made no sense.

It made perfect sense.

Nadine let herself slip away to a place she had never imagined would be hers again to discover. A place where mind, heart and spirit were one with another, a place of surrender and strength, of peace and tumult; Clint’s arms surrounding her, his body warming hers, his mouth caressing hers. She returned his kisses, clung to him, exulted in his strength.

But when he reluctantly pulled away, tucking her head once again under his chin, she did not dare think what it could all mean.

They were silent, as if each needed to absorb what had once again happened between them, as if each was afraid to voice what might change what had just happened.

Nadine suddenly pulled away, looking up at him. “I know you saw what I wrote last night. I’m not going to run the article.”

Clint frowned, as if puzzled by what she said.

“I just wrote it after I got the letter from Chantelle.”
Nadine looked down, fingering the cuff of her tunic top. “I was upset. I had just found out the truth about my father. All those questions we’ve had about him were finally answered.” She looked up at Clint, praying he would understand. “I found out how he died, what happened….” A wave of sorrow welled up as she remembered what Gordon had said about her father’s cries. Her words were choked off and once again she was in Clint’s arms. Hot tears slid past her eyelids and flowed down her cheeks.

“It’s okay, Nadine. It’s okay to cry,” he murmured as he held her.

Nadine nodded. She drew in a steadying breath as the tears subsided. “I’m sorry. It seems all I do lately around you is cry,” she said with a shaky laugh.

“I don’t mind,” he said softly, his hand on her shoulder. He angled his head, his hand squeezing her shoulder. “I want you to know, Nadine, that I think you should run the article on your father.”