Groom in Training (11 page)

Steph clamped her teeth together, sensing his determination. “Okay. I’ll see you then.”

She disconnected and grinned at Julia, who’d slipped back into bed while she was on the phone. “Nick.”

Julia only nodded while her gaze swept to the bedside table. “Read the verse.”

“The verse?” Then she remembered. Steph grasped the Bible and opened it to 2 Corinthians 12:9-10. Her eyes swept over the passages, then she read. “My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness. Therefore I will boast all the more gladly about my weaknesses, so that Christ’s power may rest on me. That is why, for Christ’s sake, I delight in weaknesses, in insults, in hardships, in persecutions, in difficulties. For when I am weak, then I am strong.”

Steph lifted her eyes and gazed at Julia. “I never understood why a God wouldn’t stop bad things from happening. Why did He allow people to have problems? Why didn’t He make all people strong and protect them from hurt?” She closed her eyes a moment, possibilities wavering in her mind. She drew her shoulders upward. “Then we wouldn’t need Him, would we?”

Julia didn’t speak.

“When we’re weak, then we turn to God for strength. We acknowledge Him and He uses His power for us.”

“And we praise Him.” Julia’s eyes closed and opened. “God wants our thanks and praise.”

Though her words were labored and her
R
s nonexistent,
she spoke with assurance that filled Steph’s heart. Tears blurred her eyes. “When I’m confused is when I miss my mother so much. I don’t know if she was a believer or not, but she was a good mother. I can never replace her, but you have a mother’s heart and—”

Julia patted her chest and beckoned her closer.

Steph sat on the edge of her bed, and Julia drew her head onto her breast and patted her hair as her mother had done.

Steph wept.

Steph tossed her purse on the chair near the door. “Can you sit up?”

“Why?” Hal didn’t bother to look at her.

She shook her head and strode to the kitchen to get a soft drink. Her mouth was parched while sitting under the dryer at the beauty salon. After she took a long drink, she wandered into the half bath and caught her reflection in the mirror. Curly hair. She eyed the spiraled waves that looked so different from her straight hair, but she thought curls would be special for Molly’s wedding.

She ambled to the hallway and leaned toward the living room. “Did you eat?”

“No.” He squirmed against the cushions and arched his back. “Fix me something, will you?”

She bit her lip. If she made a sandwich for herself, how much more work was it to make two? As she built the sandwiches, her mind reviewed what had happened with Julia. She’d stopped with no plans, but the fragile woman’s image had drawn her there. Instead of being a support for Julia, she’d leaned on her with her own problems and told her the deepest wounds she’d felt—the loss of her mother and Doug’s betrayal. That’s what it felt like. He’d hidden a secret life of gambling and carousing, threw away their
finances and then when it got too deep, he dug his own grave. Suicide. What could be more desperate? Cowardly.

She’d never thought of it like that. She’d had her down moments, but she found courage to build herself up, to make things better. Yes, she’d failed at times, but she’d grasped hold of what she could—even her bootstraps—and found a way to make life better.

Dying at his own hand showed weakness, but without seeking God’s help, weakness meant giving up, facing he couldn’t do it alone. As Steph read the Bible, she understood why Molly and Nick could fight battles with perseverance and how they could have hope even when a situation seemed hopeless.

Right now, when she thought of Hal, his attitude seemed hopeless, but it didn’t have to be. If she prayed—hearing her refer to prayer sounded alien—the Bible said God would hear her. Though uncomfortable, Steph closed her eyes and prayed.

When she finished, she carried Hal’s sandwich to the living room. He hadn’t moved. “Nick’s dropping by. Do you want him to think you haven’t left the spot since the last time he saw you?”

“I don’t care what he thinks.” He raised his head from the sofa arm.

She jerked back from his attitude. “What’s wrong with Nick?”

Hal squirmed and adjusted the pillow he’d pushed beneath his neck. “One of those dudes who’s out for something.”

“Out for what? He’s never asked for a thing.” She shook her head.

“I can tell. I’m good at reading people.”

She monitored an indignant snort. So was she, and what she read about Hal wasn’t good, but she didn’t want to even
go there. His attitude disappointed her. “In this house, you’ll respect my guests.”

He raised his head, his blond hair tousled from the pillow, and grabbed the remote, then snapped off the TV and sat up. “I’m up. Now what?”

“Say thanks for the sandwich.” Steph had all she could do but scream.

He rolled his eyes. “Thanks. Should I kiss your feet?”

You should get a job.
The words blasted through her mind. “Have you looked for work?”

“I bought a newspaper.” His arm swung toward a folded paper under the lamp table. “Nothing I’m qualified for.”

What did he qualify for? Her body shook with frustration. She couldn’t listen anymore. “I’m out tonight. Did you remember?”

He frowned.

“I’m in a wedding.” She didn’t ask what caused his upset. He probably expected her to cook dinner. “Let me know when Nick comes.”

Inside her bedroom, Steph looked at her watch. If Nick didn’t arrive soon, she’d be gone. She pulled her dress from the closet, wrapped in the clear plastic cover. The color brightened her thoughts as she slipped on her undergarments, happy that she’d taken her shower in the morning. No time to dawdle now.

Wrapped in a bathrobe, she slipped into her bathroom and opened the drawer where she stored her cosmetics. She checked through her blush and lipstick colors for corals or pastel melon shades to match her dress.

The telephone rang, and before she could reach it, the ringing stopped. She stood beside her bedside table, waiting. Hal’s voice blasted down the hall, and she picked up the receiver.

“Sorry, Steph. I had to run an errand, and now I’m hung up in traffic. When are you leaving?”

“In a few minutes. Don’t worry about it. I didn’t cancel my ride with Molly’s sister.”

“Oh.”

Disappointment sounded in his voice, but she’d come to know that she couldn’t count on Nick, at least not for being on time. “It’s better this way. I’ll see you at the wedding.”

Though she accepted his excuse, his apology haunted her. In the short time they’d known each other, the word
sorry
seemed as common as hello. She slipped the phone into the stand and returned to the mirror. A little eye shadow, mascara and lipstick finished the job. She tossed a skirt and top over her head, then sat on the bed, thinking about Nick.

She saw so much good in him, and he could be counted on for so many things. He’d resolved the fence problem, he’d rescued her from Martin, he’d appeared so many times with fun ideas—picnics, walking the dogs in the park, playing with Fred. He’d even asked her to the wedding. Thinking of going alone had been a bummer. And most of all, he’d kissed her.

Her hand rose on its own and pressed her lips. Doug had stopped kissing her long before he’d died. Nick’s kiss had awakened her to the truth. She wanted to work through her lack of confidence and guilt she’d been left with and be healed. She wanted a life. She wanted to be married one day, and she dreamed it could be to Nick.

But the idea filled her with fear—fear of disappointment, fear of being hurt, fear of never gaining the love she wanted so badly. Nick had helped her realize what life could be. She’d begun to feel whole again.

When she returned to the living room, she spotted her handbag and realized she’d forgotten to transfer items to
her evening bag. As she picked it up, Hal looked at her from his usual spot on the couch. “Mr. Rich Guy isn’t coming so I figured I had permission to recline.”

“Hal, don’t be so critical. Please.” She clutched her handbag to her chest to stop herself from throwing it at him. “What do you have against Nick?”

“I don’t trust him.”

She reeled backward. “You don’t trust him. Why?”

“He wants something, and it’s not you. He doesn’t respect you.”

The comment prickled on her neck.

“If he cared, he’d be here. Since I’ve come, he’s been late or hasn’t shown up more than he’s arrived on time.”

She didn’t have to answer to Hal, and for someone who hadn’t lifted his finger to help her, he had no room to talk respect. “What do you think he wants?”

“I don’t know. Your money.”

Money? She sank to the edge of an easy chair. “Hal, you didn’t listen to me when I talked to you the other day.”

“I listened, but I don’t believe it.”

She shrugged and rose. “Believe what you want.” She shook her head, amazed at his belligerence, and headed back to her room to find her evening bag. Steph located her clutch in the bottom drawer of the dresser. She transferred what she would need, then tossed in the lipstick shade she’d chosen. Before she dropped in her cell phone, she turned it to vibrate. No way did she want that to interrupt the wedding.

Money. Steph grabbed the coin purse from the bag, then pulled her driver’s license from her wallet and opened the bill slot to grab a few bills. As she did, an uneasy feeling swept over her. She’d been certain she had a few twenties along with smaller bills when she was at the salon, but now
she had only one. Her mind flew back to the salon. She’d charged her hairstyling and tipped with cash. Where had she left her handbag? On her hairstylists’ stand, then by her feet when she sat beneath the dryer. She was certain.

A car’s honk stopped her thoughts. Molly’s sister. She tossed a few dollars into the change purse and shoved her handbag in the closet. She’d think about it later. With her dress over her arm, she hurried to the front door, waved goodbye to Hal and strode to the car.

A soft breeze ruffled her skirt. She looked up at the clear sky. Perfect. Tonight Molly’s dream would come true.

Dreams. What might happen to hers?

N
ick eyed himself in the mirror. Suit, white shirt and tie. He’d even taken time to shine his shoes. Nick glanced at his watch. He had plenty of time. Steph would be pleased. Although sitting alone was the pits, he knew later Steph would join him at the reception. Even though she had her bridesmaid duties to perform, which she reminded him numerous times, he would enjoy her company when she’d finished.

Tonight he hoped they might have time to talk—really talk. Their kiss lingered in his mind. He wanted to tell her how he felt about her. Even about Fred. Though he tried to control his feelings, even tried to convince himself a relationship with a woman wouldn’t work for him, his emotions tangled around her in some kind of illusive excuse that she needed his help. Too quickly he’d learned that Steph handled her life with solid footing. She didn’t need him. Not really. Now imagination had taken over his good sense. And he was tired of make-believe.

He glanced one more time at his image in the mirror, then headed for the door. As he turned the knob, he hesi
tated. Veering back to his desk, he picked up the wedding card with his blessings at the bottom along with a check. Brent Runyan didn’t need money, but what did a single guy buy a couple who’d already established their homes? They didn’t need another waffle iron. He slipped the card into an inside pocket and strode to his car.

Saturday traffic seemed heavier than usual, but he’d left plenty of time to arrive with a half hour to spare. His bad habit had to end. The late afternoon sun filtered through the window, and he turned on the air-conditioning. Evening would cool and be a prefect setting for their reception—and a classy one at that. He’d been to a few events at Oakland Hills Country Club. He’d even had the opportunity to see a major PGA tournament there. His wedding plans with Cara had been simpler and definitely less expensive.

A light turned red ahead, and Nick put his foot on the brake and slowed. As he came to a stop, his cell phone buzzed in his suit coat pocket. He grasped it and checked the caller. Martin. Martin hadn’t called for anything since they’d had words. Nick’s chest constricted as his mother’s image filled his thoughts. He pressed the phone against his ear. “What’s wrong? Is Mom—”

“She’s fine, Nick. I hate to do this, but I can’t get home for a few more hours. This shindig is dragging on. Is there any way you can drive by and check on Suzette? She’s been tearing things up when I’m late, and I’m sure she needs to go outside by now.”

Nick gripped the steering wheel. “I’m on my way to a wedding. I can’t be—”

“It’ll take a minute, Nick. I hate to ask, but—”

Only a minute. How often had he heard that? Nick eyed his watch and stretched his mouth to relax his jaw. “If I’m
late for this wedding, I’ll be…” He shook his head. “Okay, Martin, but I’ll be in and out of there in a minute.”

“Fine. I appreciate it.”

Nick hung up, wishing he’d said no, but his thought wasn’t with Martin but Suzette. She didn’t like being home for lengths of time alone. He hoped that might improve with some training.

He made a right turn at the light, then turned around and headed back. Martin’s house was only a mile away. A quick run outside for Suzette, and he’d be on his way again. He twisted his wrist and checked the time. No problem. He’d still make it before the wedding march.

Canon in D filled the church as Steph inched down the aisle, the way they showed her at the rehearsal. If she had her way, she’d run down and get it over with. Molly should be the one taking her merry old time and enjoying every moment. For Steph, the ceremony evoked memories she wanted to escape. The hope she’d felt at her wedding—the wonder, the anticipation of how her life would smooth away the sadness—had caused her pulse to throb and her spirit lift. With her past behind her, Steph knew the warning signs, and she knew Molly’s life had been guided by God’s blessing. She’d watched it unfold, and finally, she’d begun to understand.

The guests seated in the pews craned their necks to look at Molly, waiting in the back—relatives and friends, mainly in pairs. She had dreaded tonight when she thought she’d be alone, without anyone to share the evening.

Nick’s face loomed in her thoughts. He’d answered a prayer she hadn’t asked God, although she’d wished it so often. Perhaps God heard wishes and sensed they were prayers. She still had so much to learn and so much to un
derstand, but her heart had opened in a new way. Now she hungered to learn more.

Steph wished she’d known God all her life. She’d been raised in a home where God hadn’t played a part, although she had blurred memories of her mother attending church alone once in a while. Steph’s mother tried, in her own way, to be a good mother, but more than not, Steph had felt alone. Her father came home from work late. When she became a teen, her mother had taken a job, and her tiredness meant living on fast food. Then, her mother had grown silent. Yet she tried to listen to her children’s needs. On weekends, her father gathered with friends to play cards, eating pizza and drinking beer. Steph missed a sense of family, and she missed the tenderness.

The organ music covered her thoughts and pulled her back. When she reached the front, she turned and faced Molly’s sister, Stacy, who glided down the aisle dressed in a coral gown, a darker hue than Steph’s pastel shade. They both carried mixed spring flowers and each wore the gold chain and delicate floral charm that Molly had presented them with for being her attendants.

Facing the congregation, she let her gaze wander down the rows of guests, hoping to spot Nick. She couldn’t wait to see him in a suit. Though he’d sometimes worn sport coats when he dropped by, she could only imagine how handsome he’d be today.

Her attempt to scan the guests ended when Stacy reached her side, and Steph knew the bride would be next. She caught Brent’s gaze, his eyes glowing as if he’d waited for this moment all his life.

The music shifted to a triumphant march. The congregation stood, and ahead of her, Molly, on her father’s arm, moved down the aisle, her satin gown draped softly to the
ground with a veil in a matching design; beneath the veil, Molly’s flawless face—that creamy youthful skin that she’d always envied—radiated her happiness. She’d found her soul mate. She’d found the man that Molly said the Lord had created just for her.

A flutter ran through Steph’s chest. Nick’s glinting eyes and full mouth curving in a playful smile warmed her. She searched the guests again with no sign of Nick. She focused on Molly as her father and mother gave her away. Brent took her arm, and as they stepped forward, Steph scanned the crowd one more time before she turned, disappointed.

Nick pulled into Martin’s driveway and rushed inside. The silence struck him when he called for Suzette. No response. Normally the dog greeted him at the door. He paused at the living-room archway. Toss pillows lay on the carpet, one with some stuffing visible near a seam. He squinted. Maybe a tear.

“Suzette?” The quiet disturbed him as he sprinted to the kitchen. A trash can lay on its side, its contents strewn across the floor. “Suzette?”

His gaze flew to the outside door. Closed.

A whimper captured his attention, and he skidded around the kitchen island. His heart stopped as he fell to the floor on his knees. Suzette lay on her side, drool dripping from her mouth to the floor with streaks of red. Her labored breathing drove his pulse higher.

He eyed the trash. Chicken bones. His concern turned to fear. He tried to look in her throat, but she wouldn’t let him pry open her mouth. Instead, he lifted Suzette into his arms, placed his fists beneath her rib cage and compressed her abdomen and released it three times. The dog’s deep rumble and sharp cry stopped him.

With no room for error, he grabbed his cell and hit Martin’s number. He needed to find the dog’s veterinarian. Any animal hospital. The ring went into voice mail. Nick dropped the phone into his pocket, then tore through the cabinet where he thought Martin kept the phone book. His fingers trembled as he flashed through pages. Upholsterers. Vacation rentals. Veterinarians. His pulse raced. He scanned the listings. Rochester, finally. Crooks Road.

Suzette’s shallow breathing filled him with terror. He drew in a breath and hoisted the dog in his arms. Her ninety pounds of deadweight caused Nick to stagger, but he found his bearing as he ran down the hallway and outside, shutting the door and hoping it locked. He managed to open the SUV door, laid Suzette inside and jumped into the driver’s seat.

“Hang in there, Suzette.” His eyes blurred as he headed down the street, fearing the worst but praying a blessing.

As the pastor spoke, Steph’s gaze rose to the stained-glass window, depicting a risen Jesus. His index finger pointing upward as if extending peace to the world. Peace. Did faith provide peace? Peace would be a gift. Steph longed to feel complete.

She lowered her eyes and realized Molly and Brent had stepped closer to the minister. His words washed over her, words about faithfulness and cooperation, words of encouragement and Scripture that stated man and woman should not be alone.

Their vows were spoken and Brent’s nephew Randy, almost thirteen, handed him the rings for the exchange. Molly’s diamond glistened in the church light as Brent slipped the band on her finger, studded with a row of twinkling diamonds.

Prayers rose, and Steph listened, joining in the hope for a truly blessed and solid marriage for her two friends. And a family, something she’d never had. Brent had raised Randy following the tragic death of the boy’s father, and Molly had been a great influence on him. Molly would make a wonderful mother.

With the final kiss, music resounded from the organ with Ode to Joy. Molly and Brent recessed down the aisle watched by family and friends whose faces shone with happiness. Steph searched the crowd, hoping to find Nick’s smiling eyes while emotions battled within her. Late again or had something happened?

An icy fear shivered down her back. Nick had a problem with being late, but not always, and this event was important. She longed to slip away from the receiving line and look at her cell phone. He may have called.

Or maybe not if something serious…

The possibility unsettled her, and she pressed a smile to her face, hoping Molly wouldn’t see the truth.

One by one the guests filed past and made their way to the parking lot and their cars where they would head for the reception. Steph made a sharp turn, aiming toward her cell phone.

“The photographer’s waiting.”

A voice cut through her distraction, and she followed the others back down the aisle where they posed and smiled, posed and smiled. Her smile felt like clown makeup, a smile on the outside with heartbreak inside.

Steph glanced at her watch. How many more photographs?

Relief came as she hurried back to the bride’s room. Her purse lay beneath the skirt she’d worn to the church. She shifted the coin purse and pulled out her cell phone.

When she flipped it open, she read “One missed message.” Her heart raced as she pressed the button and heard Nick’s voice.

“Steph. It’s a long story, but I’m at the vet’s with Suzette. She’s going to be okay, I think, and I finally got hold of Martin. He’s on his way here, then I’ll leave. I’ll see you at the reception and tell you about it.”

Suzette? Steph’s mind conjured what might have happened. Her concern shifted from Nick to Suzette, then back to Nick.

She would plaster on a smile until she learned what had happened. She talked to herself and hoped that God would hear her. She wasn’t certain if he knew her name.

Relief filled Nick once he rolled down the long driveway of Oakland Hills Country Club. Though his thoughts clung to Suzette, he couldn’t help but admire the club’s sweeping green lawn and white columns stretching along the lengthy entrance of the building. The grandeur could intimidate the most confident individual.

Nick entered the elegant windowed foyer as the sound of a string ensemble drew him toward the spacious dining room. Through the windows, a veranda extended along the rolling hills of the fairways, spotted with floral gardens and trees. Nick didn’t fit in this elegant setting. Though his business might one day grow to allow him to pay the membership fee, he would never feel a part of this.

A table near the door held name cards placed in small silver picture frames. He found his name among the ones still there. Table seven. Before moving on, he located the bridal table and looked for Steph. He hoped she’d gotten his message rather than think he was late again because he was thoughtless. Disappointed he couldn’t see her, Nick
edged his way through the chairs and guests until he located his table. To his relief, he recognized a familiar face.

Frank Capatelli, Brent’s company business manager, rose and extended his hand. “Good to see you, Nick.”

Nick grasped his palm with a welcome shake before he was introduced to Frank’s wife and two others at the table. When he settled into a chair, he eyed the bridal table again. Steph still wasn’t there. He sipped ice water from crystal stemware as he scanned the guests, hoping he’d see her among them. Finally, he spotted the groom and excused himself. Brent Runyan turned as Nick approached, and his face spread to a smile. Nick extended his hand. “Congratulations, and thanks for inviting me.”

Brent clasped his shoulder and gave it a shake. “Thanks for coming. I hear you know Molly’s friend Steph.”

“I do.” He craned his neck again. “Where is she?”

Brent glanced toward his table, then scanned the guests. “The girls went to comb their hair, I think.” His eyebrows raised and he gestured toward the dais. “Molly’s back. She’s beckoning me to the table. Dinner’s about to be served. I’m sure you’ll have a chance to say hello to Molly after dinner.” He gave his shoulder another pat and made his way to the bridal-party table.

Nick sank back into his seat, longing to talk with Steph, but spoons clinked on china, and Nick looked up to catch Brent give Molly a sweet kiss. Soon the toasts began. Listening to the best man, Nick’s gaze swept to Steph, his pulse running a race. She looked amazing. He tried to catch her eye, but hers were directed at the best man. He shook his head, disappointed.