And the Shofar Blew (23 page)

As soon as Stephen heard the news about Abigail Mason, he called his work site, told them he wouldn’t be coming, and headed for the hospital. He bought an arrangement of flowers in the gift shop and asked the receptionist where he could find Abby. When he reached the private room on the second floor, he tapped on the door before easing it open.

Abby smiled at him from behind her oxygen mask as Samuel stood and shook his hand. Stephen was shocked at how small, thin, and pale Abigail Mason looked in the hospital bed. And Samuel had aged in the last few days.

“More flowers.” Stephen grinned and put the arrangement of pink rosebuds alongside a small basket of daisies on Abby’s bedside table. Another rolling table had three more arrangements with cards tucked in them, and two more were on a shelf. “You could start up your own shop, Mrs. M.”

She chuckled. “When I woke up, I thought I was attending my own memorial service.”

Samuel took her hand between both of his.

Stephen had to agree it wasn’t all that funny. “I was in Sacramento and didn’t hear you were in the hospital until this morning.”

“Were you seeing your daughter?”

He had picked up Brittany at Kathryn’s new digs in Gold River. For the first eight months of her new marriage, Kathryn had actually been polite to him and cooperative in allowing him more visitation privileges. But when Kathryn answered the door this time, he knew things were already going wrong. She had that look in her eyes. Disillusionment, anger, looking for a target. Her husband was off on another business trip, and she had plans for the day. Brittany told him over lunch, “Mom wanted to go with him to Paris and London, but Jeff wouldn’t hear of it.” They had a fight and Brittany hoped he wouldn’t come back even if it was his house they were living in. She hated her stepfather for making her mother cry. Stephen found himself wondering if Brittany hated him for the same reasons.

“We had a full day together this time.”

“That’s good,” Samuel said.

“It didn’t go as well as I’d hoped.” By the end of the day, he had developed a hardy dislike for his own flesh and blood. She was a miniature Kathryn, complaining and carping about everything. The only word in her vocabulary seemed to be
boring
. The movie they saw together was boring. The lunch was boring. Everything was
boring
. He assumed she thought he was boring as well. He tried to be thankful her favorite word had more than four letters. But he’d finally had it by two in the afternoon when he suggested they rent bicycles and ride along the riverfront. “Oh, that’s so boring!” When he asked her what she wanted to do, she said shopping. That did it. “You know something, sweetheart? That bores me.”

She’d rolled her eyes and let out a heavy, long-suffering sigh. “So you’re going to make me go on some
boring
bike ride.”

She’d sounded so much like Kathryn that his temper had lit. “Boring people find life is boring. If the only thing that interests you is spending someone else’s money on things you don’t need or even want, you’ve got a problem, honey—a big one.” Just like her mother. Kathryn was only eight months into her new marriage and already she was complaining. Stephen felt sorry for the poor fool who’d slipped the ring on her finger and now had to deal with her endless list of demands.

Still, he should have kept his cool instead of allowing an eleven-year-old girl to get his goat. He was still regretting his words. He’d flung them in anger, heedless of the damage they’d cause. Now it was too late. The bridge he’d been trying to build for the last five years went up in flames. The chasm yawned wider than ever. Just because Kathryn had skin like a rhinoceros didn’t mean Brittany did.

“Since I’m so boring, Daddy, don’t waste your precious time on me next month!”

“It’s not my fault I only get to see you once a month. Talk to your mother about that.”

“I don’t care.
I hate you both!”
She didn’t say another word for the rest of the day. Another unfortunate skill she was learning from Kathryn: how to use silence and tears to make a man feel like a worm after a rainstorm—washed-up and helpless. He apologized, but it did no good.

“It didn’t go well?” Samuel was waiting.

“A complete disaster. Like walking across a minefield.” He hadn’t made it across in one piece. Nor had Brittany.

Abby motioned to Samuel, who stood and pressed the button to raise her bed a little more. When she was more comfortable, she patted the bed and gestured for Stephen to sit. “Little girls idolize their fathers, Stephen.”

He snorted. “She hates my guts.” Kathryn had taught her well.

“No, she doesn’t.”

“She said point-blank she hated me.”

“You probably gave her cause to be upset.”

“It’s always the man’s fault.”

“Stop wallowing in self-pity, and listen to me. Chances are your daughter is going to go out and look for a man exactly like you to marry and then try to fix whatever’s wrong between the two of you now.”

Abby might as well have punched him in the stomach. He tried to make light of it. “Someone good-looking and smart, you mean?” It was more likely his pretty little girl would marry someone rich who’d take care of her in the manner in which she wanted to become accustomed.

Abby was having none of it. “I’m old and sick, Stephen, but I still possess all my faculties. Well, most of them.” She grimaced at Samuel, then faced Stephen again, expression solemn. “I’ve seen a lot more of life than you have, and I’ve seen girls make that mistake time and time again.” Her hand was like a little bird claw on his. “You need to connect with Brittany and sort things out between you. Soon. Do you hear me? She’s not your wife, Stephen. She’s your daughter. They are two very different people, no matter how much they seem alike to you. And another thing. You need to forgive Kathryn.”

“I have.”

“In your head, maybe, but not your heart. Every time you speak about her, there’s an edge to your voice and a look in your eyes. Your daughter isn’t blind. You’re going to have to pray about all that, Stephen. Long and hard, but it’s got to be done if you’re going to move ahead and grow up in Christ. It’s been five years, young man, and you’re still grinding your ax. And whether you know it or not, you’re sinking your ax deep into Brittany.”

The truth of it struck him. What chance did his daughter have when he looked at her and saw everything he had despised about his ex-wife? It had become too convenient to blame Kathryn for the way Brittany was behaving. As her father, he carried a heavy share of the responsibility.

“Since I’m so boring, Daddy, don’t waste your precious time on me next
month!”

He’d heard the hurt and accusation in her tone, even with her face averted. How could he claim he loved her and cared about her if he wasn’t willing to fight for more time with her? One day a month wasn’t enough to build a relationship with anyone, least of all your own daughter. Kathryn used Brittany as a weapon.

Abby smiled tenderly. “Christ forgave you, Stephen. How can you with-hold forgiveness from Kathryn?”

He couldn’t if he wanted to call himself a Christian. No matter what his ex-wife did, he had to keep his eyes fixed on how to be a better father to Brittany. “I’ll work on it.”

“You’ll do better than that. I know you will.” She patted his hand. “And you’re going to be surprised how much will change between the three of you when you do.”

Another tap on the door. “Anyone home?” Stephen’s heart leaped, and he felt the heat in the pit of his belly as Eunice Hudson peered into the room. She saw him and smiled. “Hi, Stephen.” He offered a lame hello as Samuel rose to welcome her with a hug and kiss on her cheek. “How’s our patient today?” Eunice took Abby’s hand. She was so close; Stephen inhaled the scent of her perfume. Or was it just the scent of her skin? He stood and stepped back from the bed to give her room. Samuel was watching him. Did his feelings show? He was such an idiot. Unfortunately, reminding himself that the object of his passion was married—and to his pastor, no less—didn’t help.

“I’d better get going,” he said.

Abby protested. “But you only just got here. You aren’t running off because of what I said, are you?”

Eunice lifted her head.

“No, ma’am. I just . . . ” Just what? He couldn’t think up a good enough excuse when Eunice was looking at him.

“I didn’t mean to interrupt your visit, Stephen. I only have a few minutes.”

His heart was hammering. “I think Abby was finished lecturing me about my poor behavior anyway.” He watched as Eunice took his place on the edge of the bed.

“I brought you a tape of the service and a tape player.” She took them out of her shoulder bag and put them on the bedside table. “And the children made cards.” She gave Abby a stack of envelopes tied with a yellow ribbon. They talked for a few more minutes, their conversation as easy and open as a mother and daughter, and then Eunice leaned over and kissed Abby’s cheek. “You should rest, Abby.”

“That’s all I’ve been doing.”

Eunice took her hand again and squeezed. “I’ll come back and see you this evening with Tim.” As she stood, she looked up at Stephen. “And I’ll see you in church, Stephen.”

“Yeah.” He watched her go out the door.

“Euny and Timmy sat with me in the waiting room for six hours the morning Abby came into the hospital.” Samuel took Abby’s hand again.

Abby chuckled. “She even got his shoes.”

“His shoes?” Stephen looked between them.

“Abby always makes me take off my yard shoes in the garage.”

“I don’t want him tracking dirt and grass onto our nice clean rug.”

“When I found Abby, I forgot all about putting on another pair.”

“So he came to the hospital in his stocking feet.”

Samuel lifted her hand and kissed her palm. “The loss of my mental capacities is proof of my devotion.” He spread her fingers against his cheek and held her hand there. Stephen was struck by the tenderness of the gesture and the pallor of Samuel’s face. He was exhausted and worried. Abby Mason wasn’t out of the woods yet.

They all talked for a few more minutes, and Stephen knew it was time to leave. Abby looked exhausted; Samuel, concerned. “I’d better be on my way.”

“Samuel is still holding the Bible study tomorrow evening, Stephen.”

He looked at Samuel. “You sure?”

He wasn’t, but he’d do it anyway. “Abby insists.”

As Stephen left the room, he saw Eunice at the nurses’ station. He’d stayed an extra ten minutes to avoid speaking with her, or worse, asking her if she’d like a cup of coffee, even the lousy stuff in the hospital cafeteria. “Stephen, I’d like to introduce you to someone. This is Karen Kessler. Karen, this is Stephen Decker.”

An attractive brunette stood from her workstation and extended her hand. “It’s nice to finally meet you, Stephen.”

“Likewise.” He had seen that look in women’s eyes before.

“Karen is one of our new members. She’s starting up a singles group.”

Uh-oh.
“Yeah, well, good luck.” He stepped back and lifted his hand in a see-you-sometime gesture.

“Why don’t I call you and fill you in on what we’re doing at the next meeting?” Karen said.

“Sorry. No time.”
And not interested.
He headed for the exit, fuming.

“Stephen!”

Eunice came through the automatic glass doors. She looked troubled. “Did I do something wrong back there?”

He dug in his pocket and pulled out his truck keys. “No.” Why was he so steamed?

“You look like something’s wrong.”

Yeah. Something was. His feelings for her were way out of line. All she had done was try to hook him up with Florence Nightingale. Maybe it was good Eunice didn’t have the slightest idea how he felt about her. What a mess! He steadied his nerves and tipped a smile. “Nothing’s wrong, Eunice. At least, nothing you could fix.” Paul was his friend, but that didn’t mean Stephen didn’t envy him his wife. Which was wrong, all wrong. It didn’t help matters that he knew there was tension between the Hudsons. He recognized a marriage in trouble when he saw it. He was tempted to assuage the hurt he saw in her eyes. Neglect. Loneliness. Stress. He had a feeling if he asked Eunice to go for coffee right now, she might say yes. And that meant trouble with a capital
T.
“See you.”

“Stephen?”

His heart thumped. He couldn’t have moved from the spot if his life depended on it.
Help me, Jesus!

“Can I ask you something in confidence?”

“Shoot.”
Me, right between the eyes.

“Paul said you’ve done some conceptual drawings for a new facility.”

“That’s right.”

“Did he ask you to do them?” She searched his eyes.

“No. He told me last December that we’re outgrowing CCC. That got me thinking. I’ve never designed a church. Started playing around with the idea. No—” he shook his head—“your husband did not ask me to do any drawings.” He saw the relief flood her eyes before she glanced away. She didn’t trust her husband. He wondered why, then kicked himself mentally.
It’s none of your business, Decker. Get that through your head. And get in your
truck and get out of here now.

She looked up at him with those clear, innocent, blue eyes. “He said they’re good.”

Heat spread across his chest and down his legs.
Oh, Lord, give me strength.
If she had been any other woman, he would think she was coming on to him. But Eunice Hudson? No way! He could just imagine the look on her face if he invited her over to his place to see his work. “I incorporated a lot of ideas from various facilities. When I dream, I dream big.”

“So does Paul.”

It was good that she brought her husband’s name into the conversation. It had a cold-shower effect. He looked into her eyes and held her gaze. “Yeah, well, so do a lot of people. Dream, I mean. It doesn’t mean anything will come of it. Or that anything should.” He let his feelings show just enough for her to understand.

He expected her to look away, but she didn’t. She held his gaze, her cheeks turning pink, her eyes growing moist. “Stephen . . . ”

Oh, Lord, help.
He hadn’t expected to see what was in her eyes. “I’d better get going.”