Spring Rain Page 29

  Then Ted blinked. “What did you just say?”

  Clay went limp with relief. “I said I’m sorry.”

  “For what?”

  “For not being a good brother to you. For being proud and self-righteous. For being a pharisee.”

  Ted looked wary. “Watch it. Your halo’s slipping.”

  “It’s fallen on the floor and deserves to be stomped underfoot.” Clay came off his knees and slid back into the chair.

  “But you still think I’m wrong.”

  Clay nodded. “I still think, based on Scripture, that you’re wrong, but I know I’ve been wrong. You’ll have to deal with your failures with the Lord. I can only deal with mine. And one of my many has been my attitude toward you. Forgive me?”

  Ted stared at his feet, obviously at a loss. “I don’t know what to say,” he admitted after a few minutes. “I’ve been mad at your self-righteous attitude for so long.”

  Clay nodded, fighting to keep his disappointment from showing. He wanted Ted to respond like Jacob apparently did by weeping with joy and reconciling. “Take your time. I know this is a shock.”

  While Ted lay still, eyes closed, for what seemed an eternity, Clay fidgeted. Finally, Ted turned and looked at him.

  “Clay?” he said through chattering teeth.

  “Um?” Why was Ted cold? He’d been burning only a couple of minutes ago. He reached forward and touched Ted’s forehead. Cool for the moment. The fever had dipped, and he was reacting to the great internal temperature change.

  “Pray for me?”

  Clay felt his spirit lift. Ted hadn’t said, “I forgive you,” but didn’t this request mean the same thing? He reached for Ted’s hand. It was cold and clammy. Suddenly he pictured Leigh lying behind Ted, hugging him. “I’ve got a better idea.”

  “There’s something better than prayer?”

  Clay grinned, the first relaxed smile he could remember giving his brother in years. “Can you sit up?”

  “I am.”

  “I mean, can you lean forward?”

  Ted frowned as Clay stood and began to climb onto the bed. “What are you doing?”

  “Lean forward,” Clay ordered. He slid behind his brother. “Now lean back.”

  Gingerly, Ted reclined against Clay. “What do you think you’re doing?”

  “Helping you get warm, I hope.”

  “Are you feeling all right?” Ted asked even as he relaxed against Clay. “I’m not used to all this concern coming from you, and it’s making me nervous.”

  Clay reached around Ted and pulled the covers up. “Believe me, no one’s more surprised than I am that I’m doing this, but I want to. Now we can pray.”

  “You know,” Ted said, his voice drowsy, “I’m going to die of pneumonia, and you’re going to die of heat stroke.” He yawned. “Poor Mom.”

  He was asleep before Clay realized how uncomfortable he was. With Ted’s pillows low behind his back, he had nothing to support his head.

  Lord, I hope his nap isn’t too long. I don’t think my neck can stand it. And while he sleeps, I’d like to talk with You about him. And I’d like to ask a big favor. I know You can grant it if You choose. Can You restore Ted’s health so that I can have time to be his brother, his twin again? Would You grant us time?

  Clay started when he felt Ted move. He blinked and realized he’d fallen asleep himself, right in the middle of his prayer. He smiled slightly. No better way to fall asleep than talking to the Lord. He shifted a bit and groaned. His neck creaked and cracked, incredibly stiff from the strange angle his head had assumed while he was unaware.

  “You really are there.” Ted tried to look over his shoulder. “I was sure I was dreaming it.”

  Clay caught Ted’s earlobe between his fingers and squeezed lightly.

  “Hey!” Ted reached up and rubbed the offended flesh. “I believed in you without the pain.”

  “Just wanted to be sure.” Clay pushed a pillow up behind his upper back. “Ah, wonderful. And how do you feel?”

  Ted became still, and Clay could almost hear him assessing himself.

  “You know, I think the fever’s gone.” There was wonder in Ted’s voice.

  Clay reached a hand to Ted’s forehead. “You know, I think you’re right. When I climbed in here, I thought you were going to roast me. Now you’re certainly keeping me warmer than I like, but the oven seems to have been turned off.”

  Clay climbed out of the bed as Ted took a deep breath.

  “I don’t feel that tightness in my chest.” He made himself cough. It was a hollow noise, totally devoid of the croupy sounds that had plagued him for the past three days.

  The brothers grinned at each other. “It’s gone,” they said in unison.

  When the home health nurse arrived an hour later, she took Ted’s temperature three times, listened to his chest four times, and stared at him in amazement.

  “It’s unbelievable, Dr. Traynor,” she reported over the phone, “but the pneumonia’s gone. No crackles, no fever, no coughs. Clear chest and bright eyes. It’s a miracle is what it is.”

  Twenty-seven

  LEIGH, DRESSED IN her robe after a quick shower, stood in front of her closet and knew it was hopeless. No matter what she decided to wear, she would look terrible. How could it be otherwise? She felt terrible.

  “What do you mean I have to stay with Ted?” Bill demanded from the doorway. “Where are you going?”

  “Clay invited me out for dinner.”

  Bill frowned, and her heart checked. “Do you mind?” What should she do if Bill minded? If he got jealous?

  He shook his head, and the frown slid away. “Why should I mind? The only problem is that he knows my toe-stubbing trick.”

  Leigh grinned and reached for the red dress, made a disagreeable face, and drew her hand back. Too bright. Too pretty. Tonight she had to dress in a low-key manner to prove that this dinner meant nothing to her. “He and I are just friends.”

  Bill looked a bit skeptical but didn’t comment. “Why don’t you wear that blue one?” He pointed to the closet.

  “Which blue one?” she asked, studying the navy blue, the midnight blue, the teal blue, and the aqua outfits.

  “The pretty one. You know.”

  Bill turned to leave, but Leigh called him back. “Bill, we need to talk.”

  “Now?”

  “It’s as good a time as any.” She had rehearsed what she would say at least a million times. She shot a prayer heavenward. “It’s about Clay.”

  She sat on the bed and patted the place beside her. “Sit here, champ.”

  He sat. “Champ. That’s what Dad calls me.”

  “Bill, a long time ago, Clay and I—What did you say?”

  “When? About what?”

  “About champ.”

  “I said that’s what Dad calls me.”

  She went hot all over and said in a furious voice, “He told you?” How could he do that? She was Bill’s mother. It was her responsibility. What right did he have to butt in after all this time? He had no right, that’s how much.

  “Nope, he didn’t tell me.” Bill straightened his bony shoulders. “I figured it out myself.”

  “Oh.” Her anger deflated like a popped balloon. “How?”

  “The picture. I saw it. So I asked Dad.”

  Feeling uncomfortably left out, Leigh asked, “How long ago was this?”

  “Tuesday morning.”

  “Three days ago?” Her voice spiraled up as the anger returned. Three days that Bill had known, and no one had seen fit to tell her.

  Bill looked at her in surprise. “It’s no big deal, Mom. It’s not like you didn’t know.”

  “Of course I know. That’s not the point. The point is that I’m your mother.”

  “I don’t think anyone doubts that.”

  “It was my job to tell you!”

  “Ah.” The lightbulb clicked on. “Dad and I hurt your feelings.”

  Dad and I. She shuddered. How odd it
sounded from his lips. “Do you call him Dad?”

  Bill looked uncomfortable. “Only in my mind and just now with you. I don’t have the courage to say it to his face.”

  “I guess those things take time,” Leigh said. “Don’t rush where you don’t feel at ease going.”

  “We didn’t mean to hurt you,” he repeated. “We just had a guy talk, and I asked him about it.”

  Another guy talk. Swell. The first one changed Billy’s name. The second one confirmed his parentage. What would the third one do? Move Bill to some out-of-the-way naval base with Clay while she taught alone here in Seaside? Leigh was surprised and ashamed at how resentful she felt.

  For years she had been the most important person in Bill’s life. Having someone pull up beside her, maybe even surpass her in influence was frightening and galling.

  This is not a race or a competition.

  Oh yeah? It sure feels like one.

  Only if you make it so.

  She rubbed the spot above her eye where she felt the headache moving in, bag and baggage.

  “How do you feel about having him as your father?” she asked in a carefully neutral voice.

  He nodded and grinned. “Great. As I told Mike, I—”

  “You told Mike?”

  “Sure.”

  And he told his mother who told her neighbor who told her neighbor who told her neighbor. By the time she went back to school on Monday, the whole town would know. Great. Now she’d not only have to live down being Johnny Spenser’s daughter but Clay Wharton’s one-time—in more senses than one—paramour.

  Life just didn’t get any better.

  “Don’t get too attached to him, guy,” she said quietly.

  “Why not?”

  “He’s going to be leaving soon for wherever the navy sends him.” Even saying it made her heart bleed a bit.

  He was silent a minute, then bounced. “We’ll just go visit him, wherever he is. Grandma Jule can come along.”

  She became suddenly interested in the condition of her nails. She couldn’t let him see the pain that idea caused.

  “Too bad he’s not still in Hawaii. We could ride in one of those outrigger canoes.”

  “Yeah. Too bad,” she managed. She closed her eyes and shot another prayer heavenward. “Bill, do you know what my biggest fear is?” Aside from the fear that Clay will take you away from me. “I’m afraid that you’ll use our wrong behavior as an excuse for yours when you get older.”

  “Do you mean that you’re afraid that because you had sex before marriage that I will too?”

  She flinched. The bluntness of a precocious child. “Yes, that’s it.”

  He waved his hand like that thought wasn’t worth having. “Don’t worry.” He stood and walked to the door. “I’m never having sex, and I’m never getting married. Both would mean being friends with some girl.” He shuddered. “Yuk!”

  When he closed the door, she flopped back on the bed. She didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. Oh, Lord, I’m not doing very well here.

  She forced herself to get up and walk to the closet. She grabbed the midnight blue pants suit and threw it on the bed.

  Bill knocked and at her “It’s okay” poked his head in. He saw the midnight blue outfit on the bed. “That’s not the one I meant, but it’ll do. Are you going to feed me before you leave?”

  “Would you rather eat with Grandma Jule?”

  “Yeah! And Uncle Ted.”

  “Don’t you bother Ted. You know how sick he is.”

  “Not anymore.” Bill grinned broadly.

  Leigh looked at him. “What do you mean, not anymore?” She’d spent the day inside grading papers. At least she had tried to do the schoolwork, but thoughts of Clay kept getting in the way. By forcing herself, she’d been able to concentrate hard enough and long enough to finish three book reports. Then she gave up and took a nap where Clay invaded her dreams. “What have I missed?”

  “Pastor Paul prayed, and Clay prayed, and God answered. The pneumonia’s gone.”

  “Oh.” She sank onto the bed. “That’s wonderful!”

  “Yeah. It’s a miracle.”

  Much of the guilt about going with Clay tonight evaporated at the news. Ted was doing better. Thank You, Lord! She wasn’t leaving Julia in a potentially tragic situation while she went out and had a good time. Well, the good time part was problematical, but she would be leaving Julia alone. Now it was okay to do so.

  She and Bill grinned at each other a moment before she said, “Why don’t you scat and let me get dressed.”

  When Bill left, pulling the door shut behind him, she flopped back and stared at the ceiling. No more guilt over Ted, just highlevel stress over Clay. For the hundredth time she knew she should have said no to dinner. She shouldn’t have sent Bill over with the one word message yes. It should have been no.

  But she wanted to have the time with Clay. Desperately. Granted he could rip her heart out with one easy comment, one casual move. He could even take her place in her son’s heart, whether he meant to or not. He was, after all, that magic person: Dad.

  But being with him was worth the risks.

  Pathetic, Leigh. You’re one sorry specimen.

  That kiss this morning had shown her just how much she cared and how vulnerable she was. He had kissed her before and turned her to mush. He had done it again. But not tonight. No physical contact of any kind tonight. Not even his hand on her elbow to guide her. She could find her own way, stand on her own two feet. She had found great satisfaction in her accomplishments, and being an independent woman was one of the things she did best.

  Clay would leave soon, and she’d be alone again anyway. They’d be alone again. Best not to dream or hope. Best not to trust. It’d save a lot of anguish in the long run.

  Being firmly committed to a noninvolvement policy in the safety of her bedroom was one thing. Carrying out that policy with Clay at her side was a whole different thing. All he had to do was smile, and she became a blithering idiot. Their date, their first ever, would be the most wonderful/terrible night of her life.

  The Good Friday service moved her deeply, especially the cross placed at the front of the sanctuary, not a lovely cross but a crude cross made of wood that would give you splinters if you touched it, that would break your heart if you hung from it. A circlet of entwined thorns of horrific length rested on the crossbeam.

  When they left in thoughtful silence, she had tears in her eyes.

  “Are you okay?” Clay asked softly.

  “I’m always moved when I think of what Jesus did. I know who I was and who I still am, and—” Her voice caught.

  He gave her shoulders a gentle squeeze. “Thank you for caring so much. I’ve known the Lord so long that sometimes I lose the wonder and the enormity of it all.” He helped her into the car. “Do you want to go home instead of out to get something to eat?”

  She smiled her appreciation of his question. “We have to eat. Let’s just go somewhere quiet.”

  He drove off the island to a marvelous restaurant where people still wore dressy clothes, and the napkins were linen, and the service was impeccable. It was a night like no other. When she yielded to her heart, enchantment shimmered over them. The candles at the restaurant glowed romantically, his Cherokee was Cinderella’s coach, and he was St. George, ready to slay all the dragons in her life.

  When she remembered to think instead of feel, the restaurant’s flatware was water spotted; the Cherokee was much too much car for one man, an unjustifiable extravagance, and he was a sailor who went AWOL when she needed him.

  He told her about his afternoon with Ted, his contrition over his past attitude, and the miracle of the fever’s breaking. She rejoiced with him, and when he held her hand across the table, she smiled into his eyes. He smiled right back, and she felt hope.

  It was when they were walking to the car, his hand resting lightly on her waist, that a thought struck her. Ted was feeling better. Clay didn’t need to stay close to h
ome any longer. Soon he’d go away.

  The stardust dissipated in an instant, and her edginess returned, making her delicious shrimp scampi sit leadenly in her stomach. They pulled into the drive, and the vise about her middle ratcheted itself a couple of turns tighter.

  Clay took her hand as he helped her from the car and kept it as they walked to her door. When he stopped and faced her, she immediately began searching her bag for her key. It was the excuse she needed to pull her hand free since it was clearly a two-handed operation. Then she turned her back to him as she unlocked the door.

  “Thanks, Clay,” she said over her shoulder as she went inside. She turned to close the door quickly before he could make a move.

  “Want to take a walk on the beach?” Clay asked.

  “Now?” She wanted to walk anywhere anytime as long as she could do it with him. Dare she risk it?

  “Of course now. It’s only eleven, too early to call it an evening.”

  “I don’t know, Clay.” Moonlight, the soft soughing of the waves, and Clay. Bad combination. Wonderful combination. Tempting combination. “I—I’m not certain that’s a good idea.”

  “Sure, it—”

  Her phone rang, the sound loud and demanding.

  “I’ve got to go,” she said and shut the door in his face. She raced up the steps and grabbed the receiver. “Hello?”

  “Hello, Leigh-Leigh. Missed me?”

  Twenty-eight

  BILL STOOD AT THE kitchen door of the main house and watched his mother and father get out of the Grand Cherokee. He waited for them to come to the house and get him. They hadn’t let him go anywhere alone for days now because of that Ernie Molino guy. It bugged him, but it meant they cared. He liked the idea of the three of them—Mom, Clay, and him—sort of like the Three Musketeers, only they didn’t have swords and horses. Or muskets.

  He waited, but they didn’t come for him. Instead they walked toward the apartment holding hands.

  He watched them together, and something about the way they were together made his stomach flip-flop uncomfortably. Earlier today when Mom said she was having dinner with Clay, he’d made believe it didn’t bother him. He’d even teased her about it. Later when he had time to think about it more, he wasn’t so sure it was funny.