Claire Knows Best (31 page)

“But what about me? What about the things I want to do? I have a career. I answer to a lot of people. I have book tours and
conferences to attend. I miss church sometimes when I’m on a rigid deadline. How can I be what he needs me to be?”

“You support each other. And you let God deal with the details. I have a ministry inside the church and dreams outside the
church. My husband supports both. And so will Greg.”

I guess I know that.

My stomach is in knots as I walk back to the auditorium. Greg stands to let me through and I’m so close to him I can feel
his breath on my face. I can’t help but picture us the way we used to be. As I sit, he takes my hand again. Just before the
curtain rises for the second half of the play he leans close and whispers against my ear. “We’re talking later. This separation
is crazy.”

Welcome back, Alpha Greg.

My son receives a standing ovation when he walks onto the stage at the end of the show. He stands there in green tights and
a Robin Hood hat (and I know he’s going to catch a lot of flack from Tommy about that later on). After he sweeps off the hat
and takes a gracious bow he, very gentlemanlike, extends his arm toward backstage and Jenny Devine glides toward him. They
join hands and bow together. I glance back at Tina again and we share a laugh. So maybe Ari blew it with Paddy, but there’s
always Shawn and Jenny.

All family and friends of the actors are invited to an after-party in the enormous foyer of the theater building.

I’m shocked to see Brandi grabbing a glass of punch.

“This is a huge surprise.” Never thought I’d see the day. At least not so soon. Maybe God is in the process of working a miracle
for these two after all. I have a feeling John’s atheistic days are going to be coming to an end soon.

“Hey,” she says. “Go figure, huh?”

“I’m so happy you came. I bet it means a lot to your dad.”

“Oh, well. It would have meant a lot if he’d showed up at one of my school plays, too.” She gives a shrug and I can tell she’s
trying to rein in her emotions. “But I guess two wrongs don’t make a right. Right?”

I smile. “Right.”

“Besides, it’s not like I had to pay to get in. He sent us tickets.”

“Your grandmother came?”

“Fat chance.”

Now that
would
have been a miracle.

“Well, you showed up. And that’s what matters most.”

She gives a nod and looks at me with what I can only describe as reflective admiration. “Thanks for caring about John. I know
he thinks of you as a daughter. I don’t know, seeing the two of you together that day at the restaurant made me see him as
more than just a jerk who ran out on my mother. I’m not ready to be a daughter to him. But at least there’s a place to start.”

I give her hand a squeeze. “I’m so happy for you. Your dad’s basically a good man. I think he’s sorry for abandoning you.
He could have chosen anywhere in the world to settle down after retirement. But look where he came.”

I happen to glance past her and I see Greg staring at me across the room. She turns and follows my gaze. “Oh, the hero who
came to your rescue the day your van broke down.”

“Yeah.” I can’t help the stupid grin spreading across my face.

“Go to him.”

“Thanks. I’ll see you later.”

We walk toward each other like two lovers running along a shoreline, arms outstretched, waiting for that embrace. Only, newsflash,
Rick steps between us.

Doggone it. What does he want?

I force myself to focus on his stark-white face as Greg joins us.

“Darcy’s in labor.”

Why does Darcy go into labor every time one of my kids has an event?

“Think it’s for real this time?” I ask, not facetiously.

He nods. “Her water broke.”

For an OB, Rick’s not being very calm. I swear he’s about to lose it. “Want me to drive you?”

Predictably, he scowls. “I think I can manage. But you know Darcy doesn’t think she can have this baby if you’re not there.”

Somehow, although I know he’s glad we get along these days, I think Rick has to be a little bugged at how much his wife loves
me. And I know it bugs him that I act superior. But my own issues notwithstanding, Darcy has grown on me—like a lone freckle
on your arm. A comfortable familiar freckle that you wouldn’t know your arm without.

I blow out a frustrated sigh that my plans for a long talk followed by a few minutes of making out with Greg have just been
thwarted for the night. “What about the kids?”

“She wants them, too. Says they have to see their new baby brother or sister before non-family members.”

“All right. Get her to the hospital. I’ll go rally the troops.”

In typical new-dad-to-be fashion, Rick dashes off to boil water or something while I turn to the current man in my life.

With a long, regretful look, I let Greg know I’d rather be with him. “They’re making me do this against my will, you know.”

Leaning forward, he presses a warm kiss to my cheek. I want to lean into him and get lost in the strength of his arms. But
that option is not on the table just yet.

“I’m sorry, Greg.”

“It’s okay.” He’s such a great guy. “You go do what you need to do. We’ll talk tomorrow.”

So, after dropping Mom at home, the kids and I change into comfortable clothes and head for the hospital.

We are allowed to go into her room as soon as we get there.

Rick practically yanks me in. “Thank God you’re here. She’s threatening to leave me.”

“What?”

“She says I knew she’d be in all this pain and didn’t stop her from getting pregnant.”

“Oh, for crying out loud, Rick. Go get something to drink. I’ll talk to her. And make sure you don’t get anything caffeinated.”

Darcy bursts into tears the second she sees me. “Claire, what should I do? It hurts so much.”

“Well, what did you expect, Darce? You’ve watched every delivery show on Discovery Health and Lifetime TV at least ten times.”

“I know. But I think mine hurts worse than theirs.”

Oh, good grief. “Look, there’s no shame in having an epidural. And trust me, you won’t regret it.”

“Really?”

“Really. And after you get it, make sure you tell Rick you still love him and don’t think he’s a monster.”

So we call the nurse, who calls the doctor, who calls the anesthesiologist. Rick is so grateful that I’ve convinced little
Miss Pollyanna-turned-Godzilla to have the epidural that I have to back up and frown really hard to keep him from kissing
me. I do, however, allow a very quick side hug.

I leave them to their making up and head for the cafeteria. My cell phone rings. Stu. I still haven’t made a decision yet
concerning him. I mean, I know what I want to do, but just don’t know if I can really do that to him.

“Hi, Stu.”

Turns out I don’t have to make the decision. Stu dumps me right then and there. We have an amicable parting whereby we wish
each other well. I’m okay. On the way to the cafeteria, I happen to spot Mrs. Travis at the first-floor nurse’s station.

Her face brightens as soon as she sees me. She takes my hand and turns to the three nurses behind the counter. “This is the
woman who saved my Timmy’s life.”

The women smile politely. Somehow, to these nurses who save lives every day, I’m not quite the hero everyone else is making
me out to be.

Mrs. Travis tugs on my hand. “Please come and speak with my son. I know he wants to thank you personally.”

“There’s no need for that.” Oh, boy. This is worse than having a fan crying because I sign a book.

“Please. He has wished so many times this week that you’d show up. And here you are.”

I don’t have the heart to tell her I didn’t come to check on him. I knew he was doing fine because I called the hospital a
couple of times during the past week to check on his progress.

“All right,” I finally relent.

We walk slowly, keeping Mrs. Travis’s pace until she turns into a semiprivate room. Tim Travis is sitting up in bed, looking
at least twenty pounds lighter than he did the last time I saw him.

“Look who I found in the hallway, Tim.”

He frowns a second, and I feel a little embarrassed. The guy doesn’t even recognize me?

“It’s the woman who gave you mouth-to-mouth.”

Oh, sheesh, now I’m totally blushing.

A smile spreads across his big, good-ol’-boy face. “Oh, yeah. Sure, I remember now.” He holds out his hand and I step forward.
I expect a little shake. Instead he pulls me into a big embrace. I clear my throat and avert my gaze when he turns me loose.
“Sorry I didn’t recognize you right off. I have a little short-term memory loss from the lack of oxygen to my brain.”

“I understand.”

He frowns. “Who are you?”

I’m about to tell him when he grins. “Just kidding.”

I join his laughter as his mother huffs. “Your condition is nothing to joke about, son.”

He looks at me. “Who is this woman?”

I snort. Mrs. Travis scowls and gives a dismissal wave. “You’re hopeless.”

His eyes twinkle pleasantly as our laughter dies and I take in the sight of all the tubes sticking out of his body. “How are
you feeling, Mr. Travis?”

“Please call me Tim. You make me feel old.”

I scrutinize him. If I had to guess I’d say he’s around forty, maybe forty-five. Definitely too young to be having a heart
attack. I bet KFC is going to be a place to avoid at all costs from now on.

“Then how are you feeling, Tim?”

“Weak. But alive.”

“I’m glad.”

“I heard you praying.”

Words escape me, so I just nod, which is just as well because Tim’s not done.

“I’ve never been into religion, but as soon as I heard you tell God I couldn’t die without knowing Him, I knew it was true.
I asked Him to just give me more time.”

My heart catches in my throat as the sweet presence of the Lord fills the room. I step forward and take Tim’s hand. “Would
you like me to introduce you to Him?”

Tears shimmer in his eyes and he nods. Mrs. Travis joins us and takes my other hand. “Me too.”

Shock zips through me. How does a person get to be this old and not know about God? I think about the parable of the vineyard
workers. All started at different times of the day and yet each received the same wage when the work was over. That’s how
it is with God. You can grow up knowing Him, like Darcy’s baby will, or you can come to God at middle age, like Tim. Or you
can wait until you’ve reached your twilight years, like Mrs. Travis. Regardless, your place in heaven is just as secure as
the next person’s.

I relate this story to my new friends. I share my Jesus with them, and as I head toward the door a few minutes later, it is
with the heady knowledge that God has just performed the greatest heart surgery. He’s removed stony hearts, and has given
two new people hearts of flesh.

Mrs. Travis walks me to the door. “You know, my Tim is single.”

“Geez, Ma!”

“Well, you are!”

Impulsively, I reach out and give her a quick hug. “I’m flattered, ma’am. But I’m off the market.”

“You’re not wearing a ring.”

I give her a tentative smile. “Not yet.”

A
t twenty minutes to midnight on July seventh, a full two weeks overdue, a baby girl entered the world and greeted her parents,
Rick and Darcy Frank. Two hours later, she greeted her very sleepy brothers and sister. And a very relieved Aunt (good grief)
Claire.

“So, what’s her name?” Ari asks, as she sits in the courtesy rocker and stares down at her wrinkly new baby sister.

Darcy looks on with maternal adoration. “I was thinking Claire.”

I gasp, and Rick and I both say “No!” at the same time.

Darcy gives us a twinkly-eyed grin. “Gotcha.”

“You little trickster,” Rick says, and tweaks her nose like she’s a little girl. Gross.

“So, really, what’s her name?” I ask.

“I was thinking Lydia. I’ve always loved that name.”

I reach for Lydia and take her from my protesting daughter. She’s an angel. And I adore her already. “Come to Auntie Claire,”
I coo, fully aware that I am now in too deep. Darcy has worn me down with her love for me. She’s become a true friend. Some
folks might think this baby has joined our two families together, but that’s not entirely true. Darcy has.

I place Lydia into her mother’s waiting arms, and bending over, I press a kiss to the baby’s temporarily cone-shaped head.
Then I maneuver around the infant to give Darcy a hug. “You did great, Darce.”

She beams. “Yeah.”

“I had a little something to do with it, too,” Rick says. Then he blushes, so I spare him the sarcastic retort that’s on the
tip of my tongue. “You did good, too, slugger.” I slide a glance to Darcy. “I’ll say one thing for him. At least he makes
pretty babies.”

“You got that right,” she returns, without skipping a beat.

“Oh, gross, you guys,” Ari groans. “Can we just go home? Jake’s falling asleep in the chair.”

None of us rises before ten the next morning. That’s the great thing about summer and Saturdays. No one is in any big hurry
to get up and get cracking. I slowly wake up to the sound of the doorbell.

Swinging my legs around, I make my way downstairs. A delivery guy stands there with a box of flowers. He looks me over and
I can only imagine the view he’s getting. “Late sleeper?”

“Late night.” Smart aleck. I’m tempted not to tip him, but the thought of who those flowers are from perks me up and I grab
a five out of the emergency bowl on the table next to the door.

He gives me an obnoxious wink. “Enjoy the flowers.”

“Jerk,” I mutter, as I close the door and head into the kitchen. Mom’s in there.

“Why didn’t you get the door?”

“I was reading my Bible. Besides, I figured it was time you got up.” She looks at the box. “From Greg?”

“I’d imagine.” I slide off the ribbon. I’ve never gotten a dozen long-stemmed roses. And they are exquisite. Tenderly I remove
one and bring it to my nose. I close my eyes and inhale the heady scent.

I pull out the card and take it and my roses to my office where I can read it alone.