Loving Care Read online

  “I’m glad to hear it.” She brushed her fingers against Sean’s shoulder, knowing she had to go, but wishing she could stay. “Does he know I’m coming?”

  Patrick nodded. “He does.”

  “And?”

  “He’s pleased. Don’t worry.”

  “Then I suppose I should go in.”

  “Room fourteen. It’s cardiac care so he’s alone in the room. He does have a window.” He grinned. “Great view of the parking structure.”

  She stepped toward the door, and he caught her hand. “Thanks.”

  “Get some rest. I’ll stay for a couple of hours.” She patted her shoulder bag. “I brought a book to read if he sleeps. If anything goes wrong, I’ll call you.”

  “See you later, Sean,” she said, bending down to his level.

  The child wrapped his arms around her neck and gave it a squeeze. “See you yater.”

  She grinned at the lost L as she stepped away. Though she wanted to look back, she propelled herself forward. In the hallway, Christie hit the large button on the wall, and the double doors swished open. Moving along the glassed cubicles, she avoided looking inside, not wanting to face the critical patients who lay there uncertain of their fate.

  She checked the room numbers. Ten. Eleven. She turned her head to the left. Fourteen. Christie stopped and released a deep sigh before forcing herself through the doorway.

  The curtain around the bed was drawn, blocking her view, but she looked through the window and noticed the parking structure. She smiled, thinking of Patrick. She paused at the gap in the privacy curtain and took a another breath for courage before stepping inside.

  She was unprepared for the assembly of monitors and tubes and it set her back on her heels. Patrick’s father breathed softly, his head turned away from her. Christie stood beside the bed and wondered what to do. Should she wake him or sit and wait? She eyed the lone uncomfortable chair against the wall. Making her decision, she took a step backward.

  “Christie?”

  Joe’s voice startled her.

  “Yes,” she said, moving closer. “I thought you were sleeping.” She rested her hands against the bed railing. “Patrick just took Sean home.”

  “Good. He’s been here too long, hovering over me like an old woman.”

  The humorous analogy made her smile. “He’s been worried.”

  “I know,” he said. “How are you?” He shifted his body to face her more directly.

  “I should ask that of you. How are you feeling?”

  His mouth lifted at the corner, and she heard a quiet chuckle. “Just glad to be here from what I understand.”

  “You had a bad time,” she said, knowing that she was avoiding the inevitable.

  “Looks like I’ll live.”

  “That’s the latest I’ve heard.” Words of apology sat on the tip of her tongue, but she hesitated. Dad. She’d always called him Dad. Joe. She struggled with her indecision, then decided to avoid addressing him as anything.

  “I’m glad you came,” he said.

  Patrick’s father had opened the door, and she welcomed it. “Me, too. It’s been too long. I’m sorry for my neglect. The situation was so hurtful and—”

  His gnarled hand reached upward and touched her fingers. “You don’t have to explain. I was as much at fault as you. Mine was embarrassment for my son’s neglecting you.”

  He ran out of breath, and Christie slipped her hand over his, assuring him. “Don’t talk. You need to rest.”

  Joe didn’t pay heed. “I knew it was Patrick’s fault. You’d been a good wife. He had no one to learn from. No mother to teach him what to expect from marriage. I was useless. I didn’t know a thing.”

  “Please, Dad…” The word had slipped out, but it felt good, and she thanked the Lord for giving her the gumption to address him from her heart. “Please don’t worry who’s to blame. It’s not important.” She shifted her hand and laid it against his fingers. “I’m going to stay for a while, and I want you to rest.”

  She slipped his hand back to the blanket and gave it a pat. “Want some water? I see they have some here with a straw.”

  He nodded, and she lifted the plastic cup closer and let him draw a few sips. Water dripped from his chin, and she brushed it away with her fingers, feeling the stubble of whiskers just like she’d felt on Patrick the night before.

  Christie placed the cup back on the tray and stepped back. “I’ll be right here if you need me.”

  He’d already closed his eyes, and she settled onto the stiff chair before sliding her novel from her bag. She moved around so the light from the window hit the pages, but her mind didn’t settle on the story printed on the pages. Instead, the older man’s words filled her thoughts. I knew it was Patrick’s fault. You’d been a good wife. She’d lived that lie too long. One day, she’d need to tell Patrick how she’d contributed to the divorce—how she’d made no effort to save it, but had driven him away. The guilt was hers as much as his, but it would take courage to confess. She felt so ashamed.

  She listened to Joe’s steady breathing, knowing they had lots to talk about. Complete healing would take time, but she prayed it would happen. She closed her eyes and asked the Lord to show mercy on the man she’d avoided for these past years.

  Two men, really. She’d let hate and bitterness swallow her so she couldn’t see out of the darkness. Like Jonah and the whale, she thought. But the light had returned. No matter what happened, she would have to tell Patrick the truth one day.

  Patrick felt uplifted. His father’s recovery, though slow and not yet complete, had been a gift from God. He’d be coming home from the hospital tomorrow if all went well.

  He’d been so grateful to Christie. Despite the bad times they’d had, when he needed her, she was there, and on top of it all, she’d been wonderful to Sean. He owed her so much. More than he could ever repay. But tonight, he hoped to show her that he appreciated all she’d done.

  Patrick slid from his car and headed up the walk, his feet crunching the autumn leaves that had drifted to the sidewalk. Lately the Loving Care sign gave him a warm feeling. He knew Sean was receiving loving care, and he felt closer to Christie.

  He rang the bell, and a woman he’d learned was Bev answered the door. She gave him a friendly smile. “Sean’s in the playroom. I’ll get him.”

  “Is Christie busy?” he asked.

  She waved him toward her office. Assuming Christie was free, he turned to her office and stood in the doorway. The telephone was pressed against her ear, and he stood back, not wanting to intrude.

  “Yes. I’ve spoken to the bank, but I’m still thinking,” she said, a frown furrowing her forehead. She shook her head. “No. I haven’t contacted another construction company. I want to make sure this is what I want to do. We’re talking about a lot of money here.”

  Patrick took a step back from the door. He longed to head into the room and tell Christie to stand her ground and say no. The man was obviously pushing her, and in Patrick’s opinion, she shouldn’t add on to the building until she had kids spilling out the doors…but he stopped himself. They’d dealt with his meddling before. He had to learn.

  When he heard the receiver hit the cradle, he moved forward and gave a rap on the doorjamb.

  The strain left her face, and her eyes brightened as she rose. “How’s your dad?”

  “Coming home tomorrow, I hope.”

  “That’s great news.”

  She looked so lovely today. Maybe it was the color of her attire, dark green slacks and a knit top with shades of tree leaves touched by autumn—the same colors he’d seen on the way to Loving Care. “Nice outfit,” he said, letting his thoughts surface as words.

  “Thanks.”

  He grasped the moment while he had courage. “Do you have plans for tonight.”

  “Not me. I’m going straight home.”

  “Is that a must?”

  She frowned, studying his face. “Are you asking if I have to go home?”
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  He nodded. “I thought maybe you’d like to go to dinner and catch a movie.”

  She tilted her head. “What about Sean?”

  “My neighbor’s sitting for me. What do you say? It’s been a couple of weeks since I’ve had a chance to enjoy an evening out and once Dad’s home…” He looked at her expression and could almost hear her thoughts. “Dinner. Movie. That’s it.”

  “Sure. That would be nice.”

  Relief shuffled over him. “Great.”

  “But on one condition,” she added.

  His confidence dropped a foot. “What’s that?”

  “You pick the restaurant. I pick the movie.”

  His concern vanished. “A chick flick. Right?”

  She only grinned.

  Christie pushed someone’s popcorn box aside and worked her way between the rows of seats to the aisle. She wondered why people didn’t carry their trash to the nearby wastebaskets.

  “Did you enjoy the picture?” Patrick asked, catching up to her as they moved through the double doors.

  “I cried, didn’t I?” She loved watching his face light with a smile. For so many days during his father’s illness, his smile had taken a vacation—a luxury he needed for himself.

  They stepped outside into the autumn evening air. The scent of dried leaves and moist earth replaced the buttery aroma of the theater. Christie’s shoulder brushed against Patrick’s arm, reminding her how much she had enjoyed the feel of his skin against hers as they shared the same armrest during the movie. The awareness had lured her attention from the screen more than once.

  But the emotion frightened her, too. Their friendship had stabilized, even grown during the past weeks of his father’s illness. The night breeze whipped around the building, and a chill shivered through her. Or hadn’t it been the breeze that caused the sudden shiver?

  Patrick moved closer in the dim light and slid his arm around her shoulders. “Cold?” he asked.

  “A little,” she said, fighting the lingering doubts in her mind. Patrick had stepped back into her life and aroused her longing, just as he had years ago when they were young. She’d walked into their marriage starry-eyed, but she’d soon learned that stars blocked reality. Marriage wasn’t a fairy tale. It was real.

  “You’re quiet,” he said as they neared the car.

  She shrugged, unwilling to verbalize the muddled feelings that filled her. She felt like a pulley, heading in one direction, then another, never knowing at which end she would stop.

  Patrick unlocked the door and held it open while she slid in. In a moment, he’d climbed in the other side and stuck the key in the ignition, but he didn’t turn it.

  “Something’s bothering you,” he said.

  She sat a moment, trying to decide what it was that had put her on edge. “I don’t know. I’m scared.”

  “Why?” He leaned closer, resting his arm across the back of the seat. “You’re not afraid of me, are you?”

  “Not of you, Patrick. Of us.” The truth had caught her unaware.

  “I don’t understand. We’re getting along great. It’s like old times.”

  His voice trailed off, and she figured he’d had the same thought she did. “But it’s not. Is it?” she said. “It’s a new time, and a new situation. We’ve matured and grown in new directions. The two people who fell in love years ago aren’t here anymore.”

  “That’s not true. We’re the same. In here.” He tapped his chest, his gaze riveted to hers.

  She saw desperation in his eyes. “No we’re not. I wish we were, because I could so easily fall in love with you again, but I can’t and that’s what’s bothering me.”

  “Why not? Why not let it happen? I feel the same.”

  “Because I’m afraid when the stars fade, and the sun rises, we’ll be right back in the same boat that we were in. Except now it’s more complicated. You have Sean. We—I don’t want to hurt him.”

  “I know you care about him, Christie. I see it in your eyes. I watch how you treat him. Like a mother.”

  Her heart sank as the truth smacked her between the eyes. “But there’s the problem. I’m not his mother. You walked out the door one day looking for something. I don’t know what. You left because you didn’t know how to love. But once away from me, you found it. You had the child that I wanted so badly. Can you understand how that hurts?” She pressed her trembling hand against her chest, feeling her heart hammer beneath her palm.

  “Christie, please. I know I was wrong. I realize what I did. It was horrible. I had to grow up and find my faith. I did that. I’m ready to be a husband.”

  “But I don’t know that I’m ready to be a wife and mother. I’m afraid that we’re slipping back into the old mold. That we’re fooling ourselves into thinking that we’ve patched up the past. But have we really? Can I be confident in you, Patrick? Can I trust you? Right here?” She slammed her hand against her chest, feeling the sting through the cloth. “I wish I could say yes, but…” Tears welled in her eyes and rolled down her cheeks.

  Where the discussion had come from she didn’t know, but it had lain in her heart for so long. She loved Patrick. She knew it. But she couldn’t tell him, because it was a love that couldn’t be.

  “It’s Sean, isn’t it?” He shook his head and fell back against the seat. “I can’t do a thing about my child, Christie. He’s my son and I love him with all my heart. I loved his mother once. Not the same kind of love I had with you. That was different. A first love. That only happens once.”

  She remembered the early years. They were wonderful, but suddenly the wall came up. “You’re forgetting, Patrick.” The private world she couldn’t penetrate. The look in his eyes as if he were miles away in a place she couldn’t even put her little finger.

  “I know. We had a love that wavered from passion to pain. Desire to despair. We were kids, and our love was raw. But not anymore, we know what makes a marriage now. I wish you could love my son for who he is, not for who his parents are.”

  “Stop. Please.” Her emotions spiraled. How could she deny her feelings for the boy? She cared for him deeply. She— Reality struck her. He was the child of Patrick’s other love. She knew it was selfish and horrible, but the feeling was there.

  “You expect me not to have feelings for you?” he asked. “I can’t.”

  “I don’t expect anything. I…” Christie had nothing more to say. She felt empty and wounded. Her heart ached with confusion.

  “Time,” Patrick said, leaning closer, brushing her hand with his fingers. “Let’s take our time. I keep feeling like the Lord brought me back to Loving for more than my dad. I don’t know what providence is exactly, but I really believe that we’ve been brought back together for a reason. Please give us time. Don’t push me away.”

  His words hung in the air. Don’t push me away. He’d pushed her away once. If she took a chance, would he do it again?

  For the next two weeks, Christie struggled with her dilemma. She blamed Patrick for pushing her away once, and the truth was she’d done as much pushing as he had. But hers had been worse. She’d known what she was doing.

  Patrick had asked for friendship now, and it had grown, but always, beneath their new relationship, Christie had dealt with guilt, remembering what she’d done and knowing she had to ask Patrick’s forgiveness.

  She eyed the clock. Nine-fifteen. He’d be home from the hardware store by now, and the babysitter would be gone. She had to tell him the truth while she had the courage. It was now or never.

  Her hand shook as she zippered her warm jacket and climbed into the car. She’d thought of calling, but what would she say? I want to come over to make a confession. By the time she heard Patrick’s voice on the other end of the line, she would have chickened out. Welched on her own decision. Christie knew herself too well.

  Admitting her part in the failed marriage meant admitting she wasn’t perfect. Perfection. She’d lived with the attribute her whole life. It had dominated her thinking, twi
sted her desires, thwarted her creativity.

  Outside, the cool wind whipped against her and sent a shiver down her back. The wind or fear? She climbed into the car, turned on the lights, and backed out of the driveway.

  The night was dark, the moon hidden behind a heavy bank of clouds. Too soon for snow, she thought. In northern Michigan snow fell in September, but not in Loving. Still the sky looked dark and dire, matching the feeling inside her.

  When she pulled up to Patrick’s, she turned off her lights and sat at the curb, grasping courage. She had come to tell the truth, but she realized the truth had become a mountain, a confession so big it shamed her.

  She climbed the porch steps and rang the doorbell, wishing she could turn back and give this more thought.

  The porch light flashed on, and the door swung open. Patrick’s surprised face eased to a welcome. “Christie. Come in.”

  He pushed the door wider, and she entered the small foyer, feeling the warmth strike her icy flesh.

  “Is something wrong?” Patrick asked, holding his hand out for her coat.

  She shook her head. For a moment, she wanted to cling to her jacket to make a quick escape, but she relinquished it and was relieved when he hung it on a hook beside the door where she could get it easily.

  “I’m having a late dinner. Care to join me?”

  “No. I just came by for a minute.”

  He beckoned her into the kitchen and headed for the counter. She realized he was making her a cup of tea, and she sank into a chair at the table and waited. The scent of orange spice greeted Christie when he set the cup in front of her.

  “Thanks,” she said, hearing her voice catch in her throat.

  He sat, picked up the fork and dug it into a spaghetti mixture. “So why this pleasant surprise?”

  His lighthearted tone bounced into her thoughts like a balloon she was about to prick with her pointed confession. “It’s not pleasant, Patrick. I want to talk about something that’s been bothering me. Something that I should have told you long ago.”

  His friendly grin sank to a frown as the fork slipped from his fingers. “What is it?”