Claire Knows Best (22 page)

I suck half the oxygen from the room and my jaw drops. “John Wells, you big rotten heathen. Were you acting just then?”

A chuckle leaves his throat in a most mocking way. “And that, my dear, is why you need this liberal, immoral atheist training
your son who longs to be an actor.”

Disappointment yawns inside of me like a gaping wound. I should have known it couldn’t be that easy. What am I, stupid?

John stands and presses a kiss to my forehead. He winks and heads toward the kitchen door.

His affection for me is clear, and I know, despite the teasing, it’s not in a patronizing sort of way. His affection for Shawn
is evident as well.

Lord? What’s the answer here?

I think about Little League and music lessons. I know more about John Wells than I ever knew about those coaches and instructors.
Could it be that God dropped John in our laps so that Shawn could have a future as an actor and John could hear the Gospel
from people who care about him?

With that thought to spur me on, I sprint across the kitchen. “Hey, John, wait up.”

I find him halfway through the living room and headed to the door. He stops and waits for me to join him.

“Okay, listen,” I say. “Here’s the deal.”

“The deal?” He lifts an eyebrow a la Sean Connery. I make a mental note to tell Linda. “I’m offering free coaching for your
son. And you want to strike a bargain?”

“Crazy as it sounds. Yeah.”

His mustache twitches, and his eyes squint with amusement. “All right, I’m listening. What are your terms?”

“I want Shawn to do chores for you to pay for the lessons.”

He scowls. “I will not allow it.”

“He has to learn that things aren’t going to be handed to him on a silver platter just because he’s talented. Think about
the spoiled, indulgent actors out there. Especially the young ones. Is that what you want for Shawn?”

“All right. Yes. That is a very good argument. I will consider it.”

“No, you have to agree.”

His eyes scan my face and I guess he sees that this is non-negotiable, because he nods. “You drive a hard bargain, Ms. Everett.
But I agree. And as a matter of fact, I have a project I’m working on and I could use the boy’s help.”

“Good.”

He holds out his hand. “Are we agreed then?”

“Not yet.”

“Do go on.”

“There are ground rules. You can’t ever try to sway him to liberal, immoral, or atheistic beliefs. I know we were joking around
earlier, but I am dead serious. If he comes home even one time and says something that makes me uncomfortable and I trace
it back to you, that will be the end of it.”

“You have my most solemn word that I will not squash his most holy faith. Time and disappointment will do that without my
help.”

“I disagree. I believe God will give my son a very bright future.” I smile and take his arm. “After all, He gave us you, didn’t
He?”

“You think your God brought me here just to give your boy lessons?”

“Partly.”

He gives a mocking tsk, tsk, tsk. “You think more highly of yourself than you ought.”

“Quoting Scripture, John? Interesting.”

“Just because I don’t believe the Bible to be true doesn’t mean I don’t find it an entertaining read. Especially the Song
of Solomon.” He gives me a suggestive lifting of his dirty-old-man brow.

I shove away from him. “You’re impossible.”

“And you, my dear lady, are silly if you think there are cosmic forces working to bring you into my life so that I can coach
your boy.”

“One of these days, John,” I say with bold assurance, “you’re going to come to me and admit it.”

For some reason, I can’t quite bring myself to tell him I met Brandi. I have a feeling it’s not an easy subject. So, I renew
my efforts to pray for them both. And if God wants to use me to bring these two together, I’m willing.

The lawn has emptied out, everything is moved in, and only Greg and Darcy remain of the helpers. Even though I told him it
wasn’t necessary, he’s upstairs putting beds together. See? The man is way too good for me.

Darcy looks like she’s about to fall over. She’s trying to help me put dishes away. But one look down at her swollen feet
and I grab the plate from her hand and push her by the shoulders into the living room. “You’re outta here, sister.”

“Claire, I want to help.”

“Darcy, honey, you’ve been on your feet all day. You’re exhausted. That baby will be here soon, and you need to save your
strength for labor and delivery.”

Tears well up in her eyes. Sheesh. I hurt her feelings even when I’m trying to be nice. I really should just stop talking
altogether.

“I’m sorry, Darce. I’m not trying to be mean. I just don’t want you to hurt yourself or the little one.”

She gives a vehement shake of her head. “You didn’t hurt my feelings.”

“Okay. You’re just emotional. I get it.” I smile into her round little water-filled face. “Go home and get off your feet,
honey. You’ll be a new woman in the morning.”

Fresh tears flow down her cheeks and she grabs onto me, slamming me into the baby as she gives me a fierce hug. “This is the
first time you’ve ever used a term of endearment with me, Claire. Like maybe you might actually love me a little bit.”

Oh, for the love of…

Lord? Is this my punishment for unconfessed sins?

“Okay, Darcy. All right. Take it easy.” I pull out of her embrace and snatch a Kleenex from an opened box labeled “living
room.” “Here. Take this.”

She dabs at her nose and eyes, never taking her gaze off me. Clearly she is waiting for me to confirm or deny her assumption.

“You know I love you.”

Her eyes grow big. Enormous. I’m glad she’s not still holding my plate, because I swear she’d drop it.

Come on. I haven’t been so awful that a little “I love you” sends her over some kind of emotional edge.

“Oh, Claire. I’m so glad. I just kept praying and praying. And God answered my prayer tonight.” She hugs me again while I
speechlessly allow the embrace. I’m too stunned to do anything else.

She loosens her death grip and grabs her purse from the key table by the door. “I’ll be over tomorrow if Rick can do without
the car.”

I switch on the porch light as she steps outside. “Stay in bed, Darcy. I can get the rest put away myself. Your ankles look
like softballs. I want you to take care of yourself.” Her face crumples and I don’t dare use any terms of affection. “Really.
Go home and rest up. We want a healthy little Darcy Jr., don’t we?”

She nods and her expression brightens. I stand at the door and wait as she pulls away. I breathe a sigh of relief and turn.
I stop short at the sight of Greg standing in a white T-shirt and denim shorts. He is way too good-looking to be a pastor.
Good-looking in a normal, rugged sort of way. Not all spruced up and trying to look good for TV. Greg just is. Understated.
I adore that about him. If things were different right now, I’d be in his arms.

“That Darcy loves you a lot, doesn’t she?” he asks with a tender smile.

“Darcy is a nutcase.” I shake my head and close the door.

“So anyone who loves you must be nuts?” I’ve annoyed him with my less-than-gracious response to his observation.

“Not everyone,” I say cheekily. “Just her. My ex-husband’s wife? You don’t think her devotion to me is a little off the wall?”

He shrugs and takes two steps to intercept me. “Maybe people just can’t help themselves.”

“You mean I’m irresistible?” I’m flirting. And it’s not fair to either of us, but it’s so easy and natural to fall into with
him.

I think he might take me in his arms, but he doesn’t. He just reaches forward and tucks my hair behind my ear. “You’re letting
it grow.”

A shrug lifts my shoulders. “Not really. Just no time to get it cut. Too preoccupied with everything.”

He nods. We’re never at a loss for words with each other, but this silence is a little awkward. Finally, he speaks. “It never
occurred to me, you know?” He’s looking past me to the bare wall.

“What? You should have hung a picture there?” Oh, why do I have to resort to lame jokes all the time?

“That you wouldn’t want to marry me if I were in full-time ministry.”

“It’s not you, Greg.” I let off a sigh and drop onto the couch. Greg sits next to me.

He takes my hands. “Help me to understand. Please. I know this isn’t because you don’t want to serve God. Your faith is as
strong as anyone’s.”

“I wouldn’t be a good minister’s wife. Trust me.”

“I just want you to be you. Stand beside me.”

“And share you with five hundred people?”

He gives a boyish grin. “I’m hoping for more like a thousand-member church eventually.”

“I have no doubt you’ll achieve that goal.”

“But it has to be without you, huh?”

Has he missed the last two weeks where we’ve been broken up?

I nod.

He expels a frustrated breath.

Almost afraid of the answer, I ask, “Do you want us to move?”

Giving my hands a squeeze, he releases me. “Of course not.”

“Hang on. Let me get my checkbook,” I say, needing to remove myself from this situation that’s about to make me cry. “We never
really settled on a rent, but I figure eight hundred dollars a month is a good number for a place like this. You know you’d
get three times that much in the city.”

He pulls me back. “I told you no rent. The house is paid for. I’m debt-free. I don’t need or want your money. You and the
kids are doing me a favor by living here.”

“You know it’s only for a few months until my house is done. Then the house will be empty until you get out of school.”

“I know. But having someone living here, even for a few months, makes me feel better.”

“All right, Greg.” I know he’s only doing this for me. And I feel bad for taking shameless advantage of the situation but
I justify myself with two thoughts: One, I grew up in this house, so somehow I feel like I’ve retained some ownership rights.
Two, I need my children to be away from the terrible influences lurking about that college-kid-infested apartment complex.

And speaking of the kids, all four of mine and Greg’s Sadie are now barreling down the stairs like a herd of elephants. “We’re
hungry,” Tommy announces.

“There’s tons of leftover barbecue,” I say. “Darcy brought enough to feed an army.”

A collective groan emerges. “If I see another barbecued rib I’ll barf,” Ari whines, and the others follow her example with
“yeahs” and “me too’s.”

Greg stands up and stuffs his hands in his front pockets. “How about I take you all out for pizza as my way of saying good-bye?”

“Yeah!” The crowd rallies.

“Uh, not a good idea,” I say to Greg with my eyes big like I’m telling him to read my mind so I don’t have to spell out the
reason in front of the K-I-D-S.

Grinning, he ignores my not-so-subtle hint. “So, what do you say? Barney’s sound all right?”

Ari’s face brightens. “Yeah. Let’s go to Barney’s.”

College hangout and my daughter all wide-eyed and hopeful. “Not a chance,” I break in, amid images of frat boys and pizza
and pitchers of beer at these tables. The image morphs into drunk, leering frat boys, with my daughter loving every second
of the attention. I shudder. “How about Pizza Hut?”

Greg shrugs. “Sounds good to me.”

I bend to grab my shoes from the floor in front of the couch, and when I straighten up, I catch a knowing grin on Ari’s face
and Greg smiles back.

Reality hammers home. “You set me up! Talk about your classic bait and switch.”

The kids, including Sadie, break into laughter. Greg glances at me, as though afraid I might be angry. My heart turns over
in my chest. I give his arm a light punch.

“Conspiring against me, huh?”

He looks deep into my eyes and I want to melt into his arms and promise him I’ll be here for him when he’s finished with Bible
college.

“Come on, Mom,” Tommy says, in the surprise twist of the night. “Give the guy a break. It’s his last night here.”

Unable to look away, I give a simple nod. “Okay. We can go.”

There is no more opportunity for closeness or serious talks. Or good-bye kisses. And as I lie in my bed that night, I can’t
stop thinking about him. The way it felt all family-togetherish tonight at Pizza Hut. The way his fingers brushed mine as
we both reached for the Parmesan cheese at the same time, the way his lips tilted at the corners and lines crinkled at the
sides of his eyes every time he smiled. The way his gaze lingered on me when he dropped us off. His eyes said so much.

At four in the morning, I’m still fighting memories and trying to put him out of my mind. One problem: his cologne lingers
everywhere. Finally in sleep-deprived desperation, I make a decision: tomorrow I’m moving one more time—from the master bedroom
to Ari’s room. The girl is going to be ecstatic at the promotion. And maybe I’ll be able to get some sleep.

I
get a call from Rick the next morning. “I think it’s finally time,” he says. My stomach drops.

“Darcy’s in labor?”

“Of course not. She’s got two more weeks. You know first babies are usually late.”

Yeah, so are second, third, and fourth babies if I’m any example. “Time for what, then?”

“Remember how we said part of Ari’s punishment for sneaking out and going to Barney’s that night would be that she has to
volunteer at the crisis pregnancy center?”

“Yes. Only you switched places with another doctor and stopped doing it.” Ari was just thrilled to dodge that bullet.

“I know, but we’ve hired another ob-gyn so my schedule is slowing down some and I’m starting back at the clinic today. I think
it’s time to get her thinking about someone besides herself. Can I pick her up?”

I agree and hang up the phone. Ari and I have had the “Do you know what might have happened?” discussion since Patrick brought
her home from the party. A rather lengthy one, as a matter of fact. She just doesn’t seem to get it at all. Which frustrates
me to no end. Why don’t teenagers have any sense? Well, Paddy does. Revised question: Why can’t all teenagers be as levelheaded
as Paddy? Oh well. Might as well ask: Why aren’t there any blue horses? Absent of common sense, hopefully seeing what can
happen to girls who don’t use good judgment will jar Ari out of her rebellion.