In His Dreams (5 page)

“I’m not a baby,” the boy said.

Jeff strode to Bonnie’s side and gazed down at her sand-covered hair and arms. “You shouldn’t leave the property without asking me.” He reached toward her, and she jerked her arm away.

“I want to play.”

“You have to come home now.” He feared a tantrum if he didn’t think of some way to tempt her to leave. He leaned over and rested his hand on her shoulder. “You look like a sand lady. You need to—”

“No, I don’t. Go away. I’m babysitting Billy.”

The boy put his hand on his hip. “I’m not a baby. I’m six.”

“Bonnie.” Jeff counted to eleven, hoping her age was the special number to keep him calm. “We have some things to do.”

“What?” Her eyes widened. “See Aunt Marsha?”

He swallowed and bit the inside of his lip. Bonnie’s eyes were filled with eager hope, and, he had to admit, he wanted to see Marsha as badly as Bonnie. He was being stubborn and, at the moment, it seemed silly. “We’ll call her and see if she’s busy.”

Bonnie jumped up and stepped from the box, her arms and legs glittering with grains of sand. “We’ll see Marsha,” she said, darting down the hill before he could get his bearings.

He chased after her and caught her on the beach. “Bonnie, why did you leave the house without telling me?”

“I’m going to see Aunt Marsha.” She pulled her arm from his grasp.

He stopped and drew her into his embrace. “Bonnie, you know you’re not supposed to go anywhere without asking first.”

Anger flashed in her eyes, but then she must have thought better of it, realizing going to Aunt Marsha’s hinged on her behavior. “I forgot.”

“You can’t keep forgetting things. You could fall in the water and drown or—” He struggled, thinking of a million ways she could be hurt.

“I found shells. See.” She dug into the pocket of her pants and pulled out a handful of shells—snail shells and clams, some broken, some whole. She lifted them up for him to see.

“They’re pretty, but you must listen.”

“The man said I was pretty.”

Worry pricked him. “What man?”

“Billy’s daddy. He patted my head and said I was a pretty girl.”

Pretty girl. Bonnie wasn’t anyone’s pretty girl except his, especially not a stranger’s. He grasped Bonnie’s hand and marched up the incline and into the house, his stomach knotting with dawning awareness. She was growing up. Marsha’d said it, and she was right.

“Wash off the sand,” Jeff said, steering her toward the bathroom.

“Call Aunt Marsha,” she said as she walked down the hallway.

Marsha filled his mind. Her gentle touch, her kind eyes, her thoughtfulness stirred his emotions. She’d tried to tell him, but he hadn’t listened. Mothering Bonnie—or taking care of him? Was that his fear? Or was it just guilt?

He sank into the chair beside the phone and bowed his head.
Lord, take care of—
He stopped himself. What was the point? God did what He wanted to do, and not what Jeff needed. As Bonnie’s father, Jeff needed to be watchful of Bonnie every minute.

Why did he have to insist on doing it all alone? The answer was clear. Who else did he have? He’d trusted God to keep Marilou safe. She died. Bitterness pushed against his heart. He pushed his mind away from the memory. Two years had passed. He should be getting over it by now. His life needed to go on, and he shouldn’t feel guilty about his friendship with Marsha.

Jeff grasped the telephone receiver and punched in Marsha’s phone number. Two rings. Three rings. Four.

His shoulders drooped as he dropped the receiver onto the cradle. He’d never felt so lonely.

Marsha turned the key in the ignition. “Library first, then where do you want to go?”

“One of the lighthouses. Anywhere’s fine with me.”

“I’ve got an idea. Let’s check out the junk art on Donegal Bay Road first. I haven’t been there yet this year.”

“Junk art?”

Marsha gave a double take. “You must have seen it. This guy creates those silly displays using junk—wire, machine parts, buckets, pots and pans. You name it and the man makes something from it.”

“You know who’d get a kick out of that,” Barb said, sliding into the passenger seat. “Bonnie.”

Bonnie. Marsha shifted into Reverse. “Are you suggesting we drive by and ask them to join us?”

“Sounds like a plan.”

Marsha let her sister’s agreeable tone settle into her thoughts. People could change. Barb was living proof. Marsha wondered if she could ever change. A quick prayer sailed to heaven as she backed out of the driveway.

After the library, she headed toward Donegal Bay Road. Though nervous about seeing Jeff, she also felt like a kid on the way to the circus. She clipped along the rugged road and she felt the wheels pounding beneath her feet.

Barb glanced at her with a questioning look. “In a hurry?”

She took the hint and lifted her foot from the accelerator, avoiding the brake. No way was she admitting her excitement, but heat flooded her cheeks and she feared that would give her away, anyway.

Why was she so excited? Visiting a friend didn’t seem to deserve that kind of exuberance, but then, Jeff wasn’t just a friend. He was part of her past, part of her life when she’d felt whole and fulfilled. She loved the feeling, and Jeff seemed to give her back what had been drained from her by time and sadness.

“We’re almost there,” Marsha said, seeing Jeff’s ranch in the distance. She grinned at Barb, who still gave her a curious look, but then turned away and looked down the road toward Jeff’s. She felt like a pendulum, her emotions swaying back and forth from pleasure to guilt and back.

When she pulled into the driveway, Marsha noticed the weeded flower beds. Jeff apparently had used their time apart for something worthwhile, unlike she had. He hadn’t missed her one iota, she guessed, and the thought dampened her spirits.

She turned off the ignition and opened the door. Barb followed more slowly as if she now wondered why she’d asked to come along.

As Marsha headed for the back door, she heard a whoop inside the house and, in an instant, Bonnie came bounding through the doorway, her arms open for a hug. Marsha took her into her arms, smelling soap yet feeling grit above her elbows. The combination made her smile.

“We called, and you’re not home,” Bonnie said, her eyes searching Marsha’s.

“No, I’m here so I couldn’t be home.”
We called.
The words lightened her heart. With Bonnie still nestled by her side, she lifted her gaze and saw Jeff standing behind the screen door. When their eyes met, a grin slid across his generous mouth. He pushed open the door and stepped outside, his jaw darkened by a growth of whiskers.

“Hi.” He ambled closer with a look of question and apology.

“Hi,” she said back, releasing Bonnie’s hold on her. “We’re taking a ride to look at the junk art, and Barb and I thought Bonnie might enjoy it.”

He tucked his hands into his pockets and greeted Barb with a nod. “I hear the artist died. I wonder if it’s still there?”

“I think so. I flew past a little of it yesterday.”

“We haven’t been there for a long time. I doubt if Bonnie remembers.”

Bonnie wrinkled her nose. “What’s junk art?”

“You’ll see,” Marsha said, noticing more sand sprinkled in her hair. “You were on the beach?” She brushed the grit from her niece’s hair with a chuckle.

Bonnie glanced at her dad, then back at Marsha and nodded. “I found shells.” She dug into her pocket but drew out her empty hand. She waved toward the doorway. “They’re in the house. I forgot.”

“I’ll see them later.”

Bonnie grabbed Barb’s hand. “Come on. I’ll show you.”

As Barb followed behind Bonnie, Marsha faced Jeff.

He gazed at her without speaking, his hands tucked into his pockets as if they were safer there.

She accepted his unspoken apology but felt at a loss for words with her conflicting emotions.

“Bonnie missed you.”

His soft voice wove through her senses. “I—”

“I missed you, too, Marsha.”

His honesty sent a wave of emotion surging through her. “We’re like two old shoes, aren’t we?”

He shook his head. “I don’t think so. We’re brand new shoes that might fit but still cause blisters.”

She couldn’t help but smile. “That’s pretty poetic.”

He gave her an embarrassed look. “I’ve been feeling poetic lately.” His gaze probed hers as if asking if she understood.

She did understand, and her heart fluttered with the response that settled in her. “I know, Jeff. It’s been—”

“Here they are,” Bonnie called, bounding toward Marsha with a host of shells cupped in both hands.

“Wow!” Marsha said, sending a fleeting what-can-we-do look to Jeff.

“They’re pretty,” she said, then twirled with a giggle. “A man said I was pretty, too.”

Marsha’s flutter turned to a skipping pulse. Her eyes shifted toward Jeff’s. “A man?”

Jeff rested his hands on Bonnie’s shoulders. “A neighbor. She wandered down the beach—” he leaned over her shoulder to look into Bonnie’s eyes “—without permission. She scared me to death.”

The whole idea scared Marsha, but she didn’t know what to say. Today, she harnessed her words as she’d promised herself she would do. Barb had said it. If Jeff needed her, he would ask. “We always need permission to go for a walk.”

Bonnie frowned as if trying to weigh Marsha’s words, but the thought was fleeting, and she twirled again. “Junk art.”

“Would you like to come along?” Marsha gazed into Jeff’s searching eyes.

“Bonnie would love it,” he said, cupping Marsha’s elbow in his hand. “And so would I.”

Suddenly, Marsha was again filled with confusion. She needed help, and she lifted her eyes heavenward. If anyone needed God’s intervention, she did. How could she make sense out of anything when her head was vying with her heart?

B
efore Jeff could slip out of the backseat, Bonnie had tumbled from the car and darted to the junk-art character riding a bicycle. She darted around it, looking at the details, letting out a screech that scared birds in the evergreens nearby. They fluttered upward, their wings a muted thunder beneath Bonnie’s piercing scream.

“Bonnie.” Jeff darted to her side and placed his hand against her cheek. “Calm down.” He pointed along the roadside. “Look down there.”

“More people,” she yelled.

“But we won’t be able to stay if you’re so noisy, so please quiet down, okay?”

She bit at her lip as if trying to harness her exuberance with her teeth. “What is this one? A boy on a bicycle?”

“That’s what it looks like.” A worn red bicycle had been decked with a bulging body covered by a green T-shirt and pipe arms that clung to the handlebars. The figure wore brown pants with green-and-white-striped socks beneath a pair of old sneakers. The face had been painted on an oval board—red hair, wide blue eyes and a pleasant grin.

“Can I ride the bike?” Bonnie asked, touching the handlebars.

“This bike belongs to the make-believe boy.” He grinned at Marsha, amazed how his stomach tightened when he looked into her smiling face.

“Check that one out.” She pointed down the row. “There’s a man made from coiled wire…or Slinkys.” She chuckled at Bonnie, who darted from her father’s hold and raced to view the strange character.

“This one’s even better,” Barb said. She grasped Bonnie’s hand and hurried her ahead, seeming to have as much fun as Bonnie. Her enthusiasm surprised Jeff. Today her usual aloofness seemed long gone.

Jeff fell into step with Marsha and put his arm around her shoulders. “We need to finish our conversation. Alone.”

“You mean, the we’re-new-shoes talk?”

“Sort of.” He gave her shoulder a squeeze, enjoying the feeling of the trim woman at his side. Her fresh scent drifted into his senses, filling him with nostalgia.

She looked at him, her eyes smiling, yet something behind the smile looked—he couldn’t name it—uneasy or questioning. He didn’t let that stop him. He hugged her again, then slipped his arm from her shoulder as they joined the others, knowing they didn’t have enough time to get things out in the open right now.

At the next display, Bonnie crouched in front of a wagon adorned with a colorful beach umbrella. Inside the wagon sat a papier-mâché baby with stuffed animals nestled at its side.

“Look at the mother,” Bonnie said, giggling at the tank vacuum-cleaner body with suction-tube arms and metal legs. The head had been created from a black frypan with a painted face.

Bonnie bounded off, and Barb called out after her. Barb’s voice drifted back to Jeff. “Wait for me.”

After Barb caught up with her, Bonnie turned around with her hand on her hip. “You can’t tell me what to do.”

“Oh, yes, I can,” Barb said, grasping her hand and giving her a hug. “We need to watch for cars.”

Jeff winced at Bonnie’s behavior, but Barb’s response gave him hope. Bonnie’s belligerence ended as quickly as it happened, and she seemed to behave with Barb’s reprimand. Marsha had the same effect. “Good for Barb,” he said to Marsha as he heaved a sigh.

Marsha rested her hand on his shoulder. “We understand Bonnie.”

Her tenderness touched him. “You do far more than that.” He watched Barb and Bonnie continue down the road’s edge as if nothing had happened, but Jeff held back, hoping now was the time to be honest. He’d already apologized for his behavior the other day, and she’d accepted it, he knew, from her invitation today to join them. Her forgiving nature had been a lesson.

Jeff caught her hand and turned her toward him. “I’m being serious when I say I’ve missed you.”

Her eyes sought his, and he sensed she was searching for a response. Sadness poured through him for the mess they were making of an amazing friendship. They’d always had a good relationship, and now he was letting guilt push him away. “I’m not happy with how things are going.”

As her mouth curved downward at the edges, her forehead wrinkled. “I don’t understand, Jeff.”

“Yes, you do.”

“With Bonnie or me?”

He lifted her hand and squeezed it. “With
you
and me.”

She gave him a quizzical look.

“What’s going on with us?”

As if surprised by his question, Marsha’s hand went limp in his, but her eyes said something more, and he wasn’t ready to give up.

“I’m serious about this, Marsha. How can two old friends fall apart in a few days without at least discussing the problem? We can apologize over and over, but let’s get down to the real issues.”

Marsha squeezed his hand back. “That’s the problem.” She lowered her gaze and kicked at a few pebbles on the dirt shoulder. “I don’t know what the problem is.”

Jeff felt his head jerk back. “You don’t? Let’s be real, Marsha. You know as well as I do.”

She lifted her gaze. “I suppose you’re upset with my pushiness.”

Her pushiness? That was nothing new. He’d begun to accept that. He managed to control his frustration. “No, our relationship. Let’s talk about that.”

“I’ll ruin it if I’m always on your back about Bonnie.”

Was she playing games, or did she really not get it? “Forget the pushiness. It’s my reaction as much as what you say.”

“I just worry about her, that’s all.”

Jeff drew in a lengthy breath. Marsha thought the whole problem was Bonnie when it was so much more—it was about her strong faith, his lack of it and, most importantly, his strong feelings for her. They had happened so quickly he hadn’t had time to process them.

Marsha touched his arm. “I’ve made a promise to myself that I won’t bug you, anymore.” Her eyes searched his as if doubting he would believe her. “Really.”

He didn’t know what to say. His gut ached with conversation—each of them talking about something different. “Thanks, but the problem is more about us. Our relationship.”

She looked away as if thinking. “We’ve already agreed to be friends, Jeff, and now I promise to stop meddling. You’re Bonnie’s dad, and I need to remember that.”

Seeing the pleading look in her eyes, he leaned forward and kissed her cheek, wishing he could say more, but grateful he’d said a little.

“Let’s enjoy our time together. I don’t like having the stress between us.” She threw her arms around his shoulders and gave him a bear hug, and he reeled backward with her unexpected reaction.

If he knew what he wanted, he would be more direct, but telling her what riled his heart seemed too ridiculous. Too amazing. He needed time to make sense out of the past few days. Things had happened so fast. He didn’t want to make a fool of himself, and he had no idea what was on Marsha’s mind. He could only hope.

“Daddy.” Bonnie called, “aren’t you looking at the funny people?”

Marsha laughed and it sounded like music. “We are, Bonnie.” She nudged his arm and began to walk. “We’re two funny people, don’t you think?”

Funny? Mixed up was the way he saw it.

“That was fun,” Barb said, searching beside the sofa and coming up with a novel in her hand.

Marsha watched her settle back into her usual spot, but, instead of feeling irked, she let it slide. Barb had been outgoing today. She seemed to relate to Bonnie, and Marsha chalked it up to compassion. As distant as Barb had been as a teenager with adults, she’d always liked children. Marsha felt a pang of sorrow that Barb had never married and had the opportunity to be a mother.

Unbidden, the thought jolted her. Though she’d been married, she’d never had a child, either. Marsha settled onto the love seat and tilted back her head, thinking about how that had happened.

Like so many newly married couples, she and Don had decided to wait a while before they started a family. Three children was what they’d wanted. They’d figured it would give them three chances to have at least one boy and one girl. Silly idea, now that she thought about it.

And college. She’d gotten a late start, hating to give up the full-time job she’d had since her graduation from high school. Later, Don had encouraged her to get a degree, and she’d had a year and half of college to complete before becoming a teacher.

Then things had happened. Don had become ill, and the rest was history. Her college days had ended to be a caregiver, a time she never resented. Not for one minute. The only lingering sadness had been the children they never got to have. When Don had died, she had been left with no one. Nothing that was both part of him and part of her. She’d become single—no longer a family. One lone person in a world that seemed to be filled with married couples.

“Bonnie’s a little character, isn’t she?”

Marsha jolted from her reverie and took a moment to find words. “She reminds me of the wire-and-kitchen-tool characters we saw earlier today. You never know what she’ll be made of next. One minute she’s an angel, the next minute totally out of control, but I love her anyway. Her problems are great, but her own world is so simple. Too bad we can’t all be like that.”

“You’re being very philosophical today.”

“I’ve been doing some serious thinking. And praying.”

“Me, too.” She patted the novel on her lap. “I know you think I’m wasting my time with these books, but they give me something that’s difficult to explain.”

That piqued Marsha’s curiosity.

“Do you ever read?”

Marsha faltered, needing to think. “I do occasionally. I used to read more years ago, but when Don was sick I wanted to spend every minute with him. After he died, somehow the stories seemed like fairy tales.”

“Not these. I read Christian fiction. Good stories, lots of emotion, no graphic sex or swearing and a faith message, to boot.”

Marsha crossed the room and took the book from Barb’s hand. “Are these what you usually read?”

She nodded. “They’re entertaining, but they also give me something to think about.”

Marsha turned the book over and scanned the back. “What do they give you to think about?”

Barb tilted her head as if she thought Marsha was kidding.

“I’m serious. This looks like a romance. How does this help you think?”

“Look at the Bible verse in the front.”

Marsha opened the first pages and spotted the verse. “‘If any one of you is without sin, let him be the first to throw a stone at her.’ John 8:7-8. I take it the book’s about a woman who commits adultery.”

“No, but the verse fits the story as well as our lives. It reminds me that we’re all sinners and no one has the right to judge someone else without first looking at his own sin.”

The lesson smacked Marsha between the eyes. She always figured women without romance in their lives read romance books. She’d been judging without knowing the truth, and she knew that was a sin. But Christian fiction? She knew there was such a thing, but Christian romance seemed a misnomer.

Marsha felt ashamed as she admitted to herself that she’d thought Barb was wasting her time on novels. She always seemed buried in the books as if her only life was through the characters, but, in reality, the stories and characters gave her support. “That’s something we should all think about before judging others.” She pressed her palm against the cover of the book and sent up a prayer, asking the Lord to bring that verse back to mind when she butted her nose in other people’s business.

“The books always give me more than the one verse. Every story deals with real human issues. They remind me of God’s promises. They give me hope.”

Hope? Hope to get married someday? Hope for what? She handed the book back to her sister while questions rattled in her mind.

Barb rubbed the cover, a longing look in her eyes. “I’d like to write one.”

“Write a novel?” Marsha’s eyebrows flew upward before she could control them.

“Don’t look surprised. I have stories in my head, but I don’t have the slightest idea what to do with them.”

Marsha felt her mouth sag, amazed at her sister’s revelation. “Why not give it a try? Start writing with paper and pen. That’s the way they did it before computers. Once you’re home, you can use my computer.”

She uttered the words, but the idea amazed her. Barb, a novelist? What about emotion and plot? Her life seemed so empty.

If any one of you is without sin, let him be the first to throw a stone at her. Marsha cringed as the verse filled her mind.

From the porch swing, Jeff heard Bonnie crying. He hoisted himself from the seat, not wanting to pull his mind from his thoughts. After they’d talked, Marsha had been wonderful yesterday—just like old times, except with the stress of Don’s illness gone. He pictured her face in the sunlight. All the worry lines had vanished, and she had looked younger than she had four years ago.

The memory of his brother’s long struggle saddened him. Yet, Don had been a Christian, and Jeff assumed God rewarded those who stuck by Him through life’s trials. Don was in heaven. Why couldn’t Jeff have the same faith for himself?

Don had been stronger, he guessed. Jeff shook his head to loosen the thoughts as he heard Bonnie. He hurried into the house, following her muffled sobs.