A Bride at Last (7 page)

Nadine couldn’t help the smile that curved her lips. “Sounds wonderful.”

“I’m looking forward to it, Nadine.” He was quiet a moment. “I know this sounds silly, but I really feel like we’re meant for each other, Nadine. I’m looking forward to getting to know you better.”

“Me, too,” was all she could say. “Me, too.”

“‘Why do we allow our government to bail out megacorporations who have not shown themselves to be responsible corporate citizens,’” read Nadine out loud, “‘and ignore the daily bankruptcy of any number of small, home-based businesses, owned by families and in financial difficulty because of circumstances beyond their control? Many large corporations are not even North American owned, but are subsidiaries of companies whose ownership is lost in a morass of paper shuffling and numbered companies. Is their plight more important than that of native North Americans?’” Nadine folded the papers with a grin and set them on the table at the Downtown Deli. “And my column goes on to make many more very scintillating points.”

“Very well done,” agreed Donna, pulling a sprout out of her bagel. “Emotional, but well done.”

“Of course it’s emotional. It’s an editorial.”

“Well, you tend to be more shrill whenever you
write about anything even remotely connected to Skyline.”

“No, I’m not”

Donna shrugged away the objection. “Anyway, it’s good.”

Nadine smiled. Encouraging words to a writer were food and drink. “Thanks. I think it’s going to be a great match for the Skyline article I pulled out of the computer.”

Donna examined her bagel more closely, her expression suddenly serious. “You still going to run that?”

“Probably.”

“I thought Clint asked you to back off.”

“He did. But I’m not going to. This is too important.”

“Why are you deliberately antagonizing the poor guy? Clint’s going to end up in trouble over it.”

“I had an empty spot I needed to fill,” Nadine said defensively. “With the column it’s a perfect fit. Skyline has been on the receiving end of a few kickbacks and government grants.” Nadine winked at Donna, trying to alleviate her serious mood. “Besides, no one had anything else besides photos of beaming farmers holding up monster vegetables.”

“Why don’t you leave poor Clint alone?” Donna continued. “He’s got enough on his plate.”

“What do you mean by that?”

Donna took the last bite of her bagel, frowning. “A nagging partner, a potential lawsuit and a stubborn employee who won’t listen. That’s more than
enough,” she mumbled. She finished her bagel and wiped her fingers off with a napkin. “But you don’t want to talk about Clint, so tell me about your date with Trace instead.”

Nadine knew she was touchy on the subject of Clint Fletcher and gladly took up the change in topic. “He’s very nice. He’s funny. He’s good-looking.”

“And Grandma?”

Nadine blew out her breath. “She’s coming around.” Which was stretching the truth about 175 degrees.

“So now that she’s met your boyfriend, is she going to give up? Move out?”

Nadine picked up her sandwich, avoiding Donna’s questioning look. “She hasn’t said.”

“I gather he doesn’t meet with her full approval.”

Nadine shook her head and took a bite of her sandwich.

“So what are you going to do?”

“I don’t know.” Nadine studied her sandwich.

“I don’t know why you have so much trouble with her.” Donna leaned forward, smiling. “Goodness knows, she’s smaller than you.”

“She’s also incredibly stubborn and obtuse. And when I try to get really definite, she gently reminds me of all she did for me and my mom.” Nadine picked at her bread. “That’s where I usually cave.”

“That’s easy enough. Take some of the stuff you dish out to Clint and save it for Grandma. Might work.”

“What is with you?” Nadine asked, surprised at the return to her boss. “I don’t know what comments you’re talking about.”

“Those snide comments you’re always tossing at him. You could use them on Grandma.”

“I wouldn’t do that. I love my grandma.”

“And you dislike Clint?” Donna shook her head as she wiped her mouth.

“I don’t dislike him. We just seem to strike sparks off each other.” Sparks that made her remarkably uneasy.

“I think you do more striking than he does.”

“Where does that come from?” asked Nadine, uncomfortable with what her friend inferred. “How come all of a sudden you’re on his side?”

Donna sat back and dug in her purse for some change. “I’m not on anyone’s ‘side.’ I’ve just been watching you and him, and if I didn’t know any better—” she got up and dropped a dollar coin on the table “—I’d say you had a crush on the man.”

“Are you crazy?” Nadine scrambled to her feet, dragging her camera bag along with her. “Where in the world do you come off saying something like that?”

Donna glanced at her irate friend as she waited for change from the cashier. “If you don’t like him, why do you pay so much attention to him?” She held out her hand for the change. “Thanks, Iris. And you have yourself a good day.”

Donna sauntered out of the Deli, leaving behind a confused Nadine and an obviously interested Iris.

Nadine paid the cashier as well, then caught up to her friend.

“Okay. What were you talking about back there?” Nadine jogged up beside Donna.

Donna stopped. “I was talking about the way you treat Clint. You can’t seem to resist any chance to give him a dig or some kind of snide comment.”

Nadine frowned, trying to think why Donna would say that. “I don’t treat him that bad.” She thought back to comments she had made to Clint, trying to see them from Donna’s viewpoint. “I mean, I needle him, but that’s just for fun.”

“You may think so. But it doesn’t come out that way.”

“Well, he’s just as bad.”

Donna crossed her arms and looked her friend directly in the eye. “How?” she asked quietly.

Nadine looked away, rubbing her hand along the strap of her bag, trying to remember. “Give me a couple of days. I’ll come up with something.”

Donna nodded knowingly. “The truth is you can’t come up with any one incident. And if you can’t think of any time he’s been miserable to you, maybe you might want to spend that time wondering why you pay so much attention to him.” She winked at Nadine and stepped into the office.

Nadine leaned against the window. Clint was always ragging on her, always trying to find a way to make her flustered.

Wasn’t he…?

Nadine bit her lip, convinced she could find
something.

But after a few minutes she came to a disarming realization.

Clint had never talked to her the way she talked to him. And Donna was right. It was no way for a Christian to treat another person.

“Y
ou’re wearing a skirt to work, Nadine?” Grandma set her cup of tea down and stared at her granddaughter as she stepped into the kitchen.

“Trace is picking me up right after work for a date tonight.”

She had topped the skirt with a loose sweater and, in a fit of whimsy, wound a gauzy patterned scarf around her neck, tucking the ends in. She had curled her hair and taken time to brush her eyelashes with mascara and her eyelids with a faint dusting of gold eye shadow. She couldn’t recall when she’d purchased the rarely worn makeup—maybe for Leslie’s wedding? Or was it Sabrina’s? Nadine was surprised that the old mascara hadn’t dried up.

“You look very nice,” Grandma said approvingly. “The makeup looks good, as well. Sets off your pretty eyes.”

“Thanks, Grandma.” Nadine laughed as she bent
over and kissed Danielle’s cheek. “It’s been so long since I wore makeup, I’m trying not to feel like a store mannequin,” she admitted, sitting down to her breakfast. She also wondered if she was going to make it to the end of the day before the hair hanging around her jawline drove her nuts.

“Well, you’re going to turn a few heads, I’m sure.” Grandma smiled her approval and Nadine felt a little better. “Clint Fletcher won’t recognize you.”

“I didn’t do this for my boss,” Nadine said more sharply than she had intended.

“Of course not.” Danielle smiled. “I’m sure Trace will like the way you look.”

Nadine was somewhat mollified by her grandmother’s encouraging comments. “Thanks, Grandma.”

They ate their breakfast in silence, Grandma reading the paper and Nadine going over her notes for the interview she was going to do tomorrow. When Nadine left the apartment she felt ready to face the world.

“Good morning, Sharlene.” Nadine breezed into the office, pausing at the mail drop to check for any mail or messages.

Sharlene looked up from an ad she was writing out with a smile that froze on her face when she caught sight of her editor. “Nadine?” she said, her voice weak with surprise.

Nadine grinned back and flipped a hand through her hair. “Do I look
that
different today?”

“Different enough.” Sharlene shook her head.
“The Nadine I know wouldn’t wear a skirt except to church, and she certainly would never put on makeup.”

Nadine smiled as she looked down at the envelopes in her hands. “People change,” she murmured.

“Do they ever.” Clint’s disbelieving voice behind her made her head snap up.

Nadine kept her eyes straight ahead, feeling suddenly self-conscious about her clothes, her makeup, her hair.

What does it matter what he thinks? she reminded herself. He’s just your boss. She curved her lips into a smile and turned to face Clint, who stood in the doorway of his office, one shoulder propped against the doorjamb, his eyebrows raised in surprise.

A sharp retort to deflect his comment came to mind, but on its heels, Donna’s admonition from the day before. She hesitated, catching his eye. Clint’s expression became serious as the moment stretched out. He straightened, his eyelids lowering slightly, his lips softening. She couldn’t look away and, for some puzzling reason, didn’t want to.

Flustered, she shuffled through the envelopes, dropping a couple. As she bent to pick them up, other hands beat her to it. Without looking up at Clint, she took them from him and escaped to her office.

What is wrong with you? she chided herself as she dropped her knapsack on the floor beside her desk. She shook her head as if to rearrange her
thoughts and dropped the mail onto her already overflowing desk. Clint Fletcher is your boss, you are Nadine Laidlaw and you dressed up for your date with Trace.

She walked around her desk to turn on her computer. She had set today aside to clear off some paperwork and do some more work on some of the columns she had written. With a little luck she would be finished by the time Trace came tonight to pick her up.

She looked over her articles, skipped lunch and headed out to do an interview.

Trace phoned while Nadine was away, and left the message that he would pick her up from the office a little later than he had originally planned. Nadine didn’t mind. It gave her a little more time to finish off some stories.

She spent the better part of the afternoon looking over the résumés of people who had applied for the other reporter’s job. She desperately needed someone to help out. She and Wally were each doing a job and a half to make up for the vacancy, and it was wearing both of them down. Clint helped out where he could, but the workload was still too much.

The day seemed to fly by. When Nadine finally pushed herself back from her computer, she was surprised to see it was almost five-forty.

Blinking tiredly, she lifted a hand to rub her eyes. Just in time she remembered her mascara and stopped herself.

Nadine clicked her mouse to save the file she was
working on and then shut down her computer. She didn’t want to work anymore. Trace would be coming for her any moment.

She rolled her neck, looking with satisfaction over her desk, pleased with the empty spaces she could now see. She had another interview to do tomorrow and Saturday a volleyball tournament to cover. Thankfully this one was in town, so she wouldn’t have to travel. Trace wanted to take her out Saturday, as well.

She went to the bathroom and checked her makeup, brushed her hair and tried to still the butterflies in her stomach.

A date. After all these years, she was going on a date. She grinned at herself in the mirror. And not a date of Grandma’s doing. A date with someone who wanted to be with her. Nadine tilted her head as she studied her reflection. She wasn’t a vain person, but the fact that someone wanted to be with her made her take a second look at the young woman in the mirror. She winked at her reflection and walked out.

Half an hour later, Trace still hadn’t come. Nadine had busied herself with odd jobs, cleaning out the coffee room, gathering a few mugs from different places in the office, trying to quell her nervous tension. What if he wasn’t coming?

She tried not to, but periodically she walked down the hall to the front door to see if Trace was waiting outside. He wasn’t, and Nadine wondered how long she should wait.

She made a fresh pot of coffee and leaned against the counter, waiting for the machine to finish dripping, an unwelcome feeling of melancholy coming over her. She decided she would give Trace another fifteen minutes and then she would…

She would what? she thought, her stomach tightening at the thought of facing her grandmother, telling her that she had been stood up.

The soft hiss of the coffee machine broke the stillness of the room. Nadine used to dread this time of the day. For the past year any free evenings she had were spent at the hospital. The last few months of her mother’s life were fraught with tension and wondering. Each time the phone rang, Nadine and her grandmother wondered if this time it was the hospital. Her sisters came whenever they could, but Nadine knew they didn’t have the time she had. That meant the bulk of the visiting and doctor’s consultations fell on Nadine’s shoulders.

The memories always brought tears, and tonight was no exception. Nadine felt the nudge of pain and closed her eyes as it drifted over her. She tried to fight it, but couldn’t.

I miss her, Lord,
she prayed, pressing her hand against her mouth, tears sliding down her cheeks as the pain increased.
I know she’s better off where she is, but I still miss her so much.
She drew in a deep breath, wishing she could stop the tears.

A noise behind her broke abruptly into her sorrow. She whirled around, her heart pounding.

“Sorry.” Clint stood in the doorway of the coffee
room, his tie loosened, his cuffs rolled up. “I didn’t know you were still here.”

Nadine turned away again, surreptitiously wiping at her cheeks. “That’s fine,” she replied, looking around for a napkin, anything to get rid of the mortifying tears.

“Nadine.” He came toward her, his deep voice tinged with concern. “Is something wrong?”

She snatched up some napkins and hurriedly wiped at her eyes. “Do you want some coffee?” she asked, her voice muffled by the napkin.

“I can get it,” he replied, stepping past her, thankfully not glancing her way. He stood with his broad back to her, his shirt pulling across his shoulders as he reached up for a cup. He poured himself some coffee and then glanced over his shoulder at her.

“I’m sorry if I embarrassed you.” He turned to face her. “I don’t mean to intrude.”

Nadine looked down at the crumpled napkin, now smeared with mascara. She shook her head at her own clumsiness. “I’m fine” was all she could manage.

“Has something happened?” he persisted.

Nadine hesitated, her previous encounters with Clint creating a barrier. She remembered once again Donna’s admonition. He had been a visitor in their home any number of times, had met her mother and knew Grandma. He had been a large part of her life for a time. He was kind of an old friend, she had to concede. He could be told the truth.

“Nothing happened,” Nadine said with a shaky smile. She took a deep breath to steady her voice. “I just…miss my mother.” She bit back another soft cry and could speak no more. Another set of tears drifted down her cheeks.

Clint said nothing, and for that Nadine was thankful. He stood, quiet, waiting, listening. His gaze serious, interested. Sympathetic with no trace of pity.

Nadine took another deep breath, studying the smeared napkin. “Silly, isn’t it? She’s been dead six months and it seems like I’m sadder now than I was when she died.”

“Six months isn’t that long,” he replied softly. “I would think it takes years to get over the death of someone you love.”

Nadine nodded. “I remember my mom crying over my dad even just until a couple of years ago.”

“I don’t know if you ever get over the death of someone you care for. I think it’s quite something that your mother loved your father like that.” Clint laughed shortly. “You were lucky to see that while you were growing up.”

Nadine paused, looking at him, surprised at this admission. “You were, never close to your parents, were you?” she asked.

Clint shook his head, smiling sadly. “Hard to be close to a couple who seldom talked to each other, let alone their son.” He looked up at Nadine, his gaze sincere. “I used to hate them, but I realized that it only drained whatever joy I could find in my life. I’m thankful that I found a loving Father who
cares for me with a strength and sincerity I haven’t found on earth. I learned that and much more from Uncle Dory and am thankful for more reasons than one that I was sent here to Derwin.”

Nadine was taken aback at his admission. Clint had never been very forthcoming about his spiritual life.

“I always admired your mother’s strength,” Clint continued, setting down his coffee cup. “She did a good job raising you girls, teaching you the right things, encouraging you in your relationship with God. I’m sure she must have been proud of you.”

Nadine shrugged. “Well, at least Sabrina and Leslie managed to get themselves married.”

Clint said nothing to that and Nadine sniffed once again, wiping at her eyes.

“You have nothing to be ashamed of,” Clint said finally. “Jack was a fool to let you go.”

Nadine looked up at that, blinking away more tears as she caught Clint’s steady gaze. She looked at him again, as if seeing him with new eyes.

A sudden knocking on the front door startled them both. “Hello, anybody there?” Trace’s muffled voice drifted down the hallway.

“Well. Looks like your date is finally here,” said Clint, his voice dry.

Nadine turned to leave, but was surprised when Clint caught her arm to stop her. “Just a minute,” he said, picking up a napkin. He tugged on her arm to bring her closer. “Your mascara is smudged,” he said.

Nadine felt a most curious sensation as she looked up. His hazel eyes seemed to draw her in, pull her toward him. She felt the warmth of his hand encircling her arm, his fingers brushing her cheek as he wiped a smudge away. She raised her hand to rest it on his shoulder as she felt herself drift toward him.

Another loud knock on the door broke the moment.

“You better go before your ardent suitor breaks down the door,” said Clint dryly, letting her go.

Nadine nodded, feeling suddenly breathless. She stopped at the doorway, looking back. But Clint had his coffee in his hand and was sipping it, his eyes downcast.

Shaking off the feelings he had aroused in her, she turned and ran down the hallway.

“Wow. Do you ever look terrific,” Trace greeted her appreciatively. “I didn’t think you could get even more gorgeous.”

Nadine smiled, passing off his compliments with a dismissive gesture.

Trace caught her hands. “I know exactly what that means, you silly girl. Hey, sorry I’m late,” he said. “I got stuck at the bank.” He pulled her closer and kissed her lightly on her cheek. “Forgive me?”

“I was wondering if you were going to stand me up.”

“Are you kidding?” Trace pulled her close to him. “A guy would have to be crazy to do that to someone like you.” He kissed her again. “The movie just started. We can grab supper later.”

Nadine ran back down the hallway and got her purse from her office. She stepped out the door and, pausing a moment, walked back to the coffee room. Clint still stood at the counter, his coffee cup in his hands.

He looked at her. “Still here?” was all he said.

Nadine bit her lip, unable to pass off what had just happened, unsure of what to make of it. “Thanks,” she said finally, hoping he understood what she meant. “For everything.”

Clint nodded. “Any time, Nadine,” he replied softly. “Any time at all.”

“C’mon, gorgeous,” Trace called. “The night isn’t getting any younger.”

“See you Monday,” she said, then turned and left.

Nadine cranked on the film rewind as the noise of the celebrating team roiled around her. It was Saturday night. The home team had won their invitational volleyball tournament and were celebrating in the true manner of high school champions.