Claire Knows Best (7 page)

She turns toward me. “The chest of drawers is cleaned out,” she says, pointing to the piece of furniture in the corner.

“Thanks. I’m not going to need six drawers just yet. Hopefully I can get some of my own things out of my room as soon as I
get in touch with a contractor and get that tree out of my house. Right now I doubt I’d fill up one drawer.”

I smile. She smiles back. I think we’re going to get along great.

“Well, when you have need, they’re all yours. The closet is also empty.”

I nod my thanks.

Greg slips his arm around me and pulls me close to his side. “Think you’ll be comfortable enough here?”

I look up into his eyes, which are saying so much more than the simple question. He’s sorry we argued, too. He cares about
me. Wants me to be happy, safe.

Did I ever mention that Greg wears his heart on his sleeve?

Raising my chin, I send him a reassuring smile. “It’ll be perfect.”

He brushes my lips with his in a feather-light kiss. I’m so shocked I can’t even pucker. He’s never kissed me in front of
Sadie or his mother.

Apparently Sadie’s a little rattled by it, too. She grabs her dad’s other hand and jumps up and down. “Can we go home now,
Daddy?”

“Sadie,” Helen admonishes. “It’s rude to interrupt.”

“Well, I’m tired.”

Reluctantly, Greg turns to her and I slip out of the comforting circle of his arm so he can give her his full attention. He
lifts the little girl and she wraps her bony legs around his waist, her skinny arms around his neck. Helen gives me a wink.
I feel heat spread across my cheeks and know by her chuckle I’m blushing.

“I guess we’re leaving,” Greg drawls. “Walk us out?”

“Of course.” I motion toward the door. “Lead the way.”

I’m following. Sadie’s chin is resting on Greg’s shoulder and she’s glaring at me. Staking her claim. Now, I realize I have
two choices. I can try to win her over. Smile. Cajole. Ask her about her day. But I have a feeling she’d shoot me down in
a millisecond, and that would be embarrassing for Greg and me both, so I opt for door number two. I look away and let her
think she’s cowered me. I can be the bigger person in the situation. After all, I’m going to get Greg. No matter how much
Sadie objects.

To be honest, my heart goes out to her. It’s not the kid’s fault she lost her mom and is going to have to share her dad. Even
if divorce brings up a whole other set of problems for my kids, at least they
do
still have their dad. Lousy husband—great dad. All right, in all fairness, he’s not such a lousy husband to Darcy.

Oh, well.

“I’ll let you two say good-bye,” Helen says when we get downstairs. “Can I make you some tea for when you come back inside?”
she asks. “I never go to bed without a cup of chamomile.”

I can’t help but warm to her sweet smile. “That sounds lovely. Thank you.”

She rises up on her socked tiptoes and kisses Greg’s cheek, then gives it a maternal pat. “’Night, son.” A look passes between
them and I’m not sure how to take it. But Greg’s face colors, so I have a feeling it has something to do with me.

I open the door for Greg since his arms are full of his scowling daughter. The cool night air is heavy and smells like another
round of rain is on the way. I think of my house. If it rains again, more of my things will be ruined. I don’t mean to be
materialistic. But I’ve worked so hard to build a great life for the kids. We’ve just reached a place where I’m not working
as much and we’re spending more time together as a family. I don’t want to have to go back to such a grueling schedule.

Greg straps Sadie into her booster seat in the backseat of his Avalanche and shuts the door. Then he turns, gathers me into
his arms, and leans against the truck. “I’m sorry I made it sound like I don’t care about having a nice wedding with family
and friends. I know the wedding is important, too. I’ve envisioned you walking down the aisle to me more times than I can
count.”

Okay, sometimes this guy just takes my breath away. “You have?”

“Of course. I know my attitude earlier didn’t show that. I just wasn’t thinking about anything but that tree and how much
I’ll miss you not being a couple of doors away. A quick marriage seemed to be the solution. In hindsight, I see it wasn’t
right to just spring it on you like that.”

I kiss him briefly to acknowledge my forgiveness. “And I’m sorry I gave in to my shrewish side and accused you of only wanting
a slave.”

He laughs and snuggles me close. “Forgiven.” We stand there in each other’s arms for a while. I figure Sadie must have fallen
asleep because she’s not kicking the door or calling for Greg to hurry. “I’m sorry about your house, Claire. Do you want me
to help you find a contractor? The school janitor’s brother-in-law has his own business. I could get his number.”

Drowsy, with my cheek pressed against Greg’s warm chest, I nod. “Mmm.”

“I take that as a yes?” He kisses the top of my head and I get my cue to step back.

“Yes. I’d appreciate the referral. The sooner we’re back on the same block the better.”

He gives a little growl and pulls me close again. “My thoughts exactly,” he says, just before we kiss.

I’m shaking slightly and my heart is about to pump out of my chest by the time he pulls back and brushes my hair from my forehead.
“I don’t know what you think of this, but…”

My suspicious nature creates a dark drama in my head as I wait for the other shoe to drop. “What?”

His eyes soften as a smile tips the corners of his mouth. “Don’t look so worried. I’ve been trying to talk to you for a few
days, but we never seemed to find time alone. I hate to spring this on you now, but I need to make some plans and don’t want
to do it without discussing it with you.”

“What kind of plans?” And why do I feel an emotional tornado coming on?

“The church has grown to such a degree that the board and Pastor Devine are considering taking on an associate pastor.”

“Good idea.”
But what does that have to do with us?
I’m thinking.

He clears his throat nervously. “The fact is, he would like for me to consider the position if it materializes.”

Pride that the church leaders see Greg’s wonderful potential combines with a little bit of dread. “You want to be an associate
pastor?”

“I think so.” His eyes are so serious, I feel a lump lodge in my throat. I try not to show my dismay.

“Would you still teach?”

He nods. “I’d only work part-time at the church to take on some of the duties Pastor is getting too busy to do alone. And
preach occasionally when he’s out of town.”

“I see.”

“You don’t seem happy.” He presses his forehead to mine. “Want to tell me what’s going through that brain of yours?”

No. I don’t. Really. Because what’s going through my brain is that I am barely good enough for Greg as it is, and right now
he only serves as Wednesday-night worship leader. If he increases his level of ministry, he’s going to see pretty quickly
how far beneath him I am. Oh, the things that go through my mind sometimes. I feel like Paul all the time: doing the things
I don’t want to do, not doing the things I know I should.

Sadie picks this moment to bang on the window. Greg drops his arms from my waist and turns to his girl, opening the door.
“What, sweetie?”

“Can we go home now?” she asks sleepily. And I could kiss her for getting me out of this conversation.

“You better get her to bed, Greg,” I say in my oh-so-sacrificial tone. “She has school tomorrow. You both do.”

He nods. “All right, Sadie. We’ll go in a sec.” Closing the door, he turns back to me and presses a swift kiss to my lips.
“We’ll talk about this tomorrow.”

Associate pastor. That’ll make me an associate pastor’s wife.

Lord, have mercy.

Helen’s kitchen is every woman’s dream. An island stove top and grill. All stainless-steel appliances, which just happens
to be my favorite kind of kitchen. Gorgeous hand-crafted wood cabinets everywhere. Granite countertops.

She glances up from her perch at the bar and waves me to a seat. “I’ll get your tea.” By the cinnamony scents wafting from
the oven, I think Helen has gone to a little more trouble than merely setting a teakettle on the stove.

Grabbing a potholder, she confirms my suspicion. “I had some cinnamon rolls left over from yesterday’s baking. I have them
warming in the oven. I hope you like them.”

Is she kidding? I can feel my hips spreading just thinking about gooey, warm, iced cinnamon rolls.

“Yum. You’re not trying to fatten me up so Greg will lose interest, are you?”

Her brown eyes, so like Greg’s, twinkle as she sets a cup and saucer in front of me and a little plate with an enormous roll
next to it. “Not a chance. I’m tickled pink that he’s found you.”

Taken aback by her sincerity, I’m embarrassed into silence, so I bite and chew quick-like to avoid the necessity of a reply.
“Delifshush,” I say with my mouth full.

I’d rather snuggle up in one of the branches of my house tree than have to engage Helen in a conversation about my relationship
with Greg. But Helen, it seems, is settling in for a nice long chat.

She sets a serving plate between us with at least six warm cinnamon rolls and my palms start to sweat. Nervousness hits me
on two levels. One, like I said, I don’t want to talk to her about Greg. I have a bad habit of saying too much. Two, I could
easily eat every one of those soft, yeasty, calorie-and-fat-laden treats of comfort and delight.

My heart is beating as though I’ve been pushed into a corner. I know there’s only one way out of this. I fake a big, wide
yawn, complete with an over-the-head arm stretch. I may have overdone it, because the expression on Helen’s face is anything
but clueless.

“You’ve had an exhausting evening,” she says, totally letting me off the hook even though I know darn well she has my number.
“I’ll put these away for breakfast.”

Relieved beyond words, I swallow my last bite while nodding my approval as she grabs plastic wrap from a drawer and proceeds
to cover the baked goods. My nerves are beginning to calm. I’m halfway to escape. And honestly, I’m beginning to feel the
effects of the stressful evening. I’m more than ready to take a shower and lose myself in that enormous bed.

The tea presents another challenge, though. It’s steaming hot. No gulping for a hasty exit. And after I said I wanted some,
I can’t really leave the cup full without making a valiant effort to drink it down.

Again, Helen comes to the rescue. “You look about ready to drop, dear. Why don’t you take your tea up to your room with you?”

“You don’t mind?”

“Not at all.” She swipes at the countertop with a damp cloth. “We’ll have plenty of chances for girl talk. And I promise not
to pry into your relationship with my son.”

I slide off the stool and snatch my cup and saucer from the counter. “I’m that obvious, huh?”

“Never try to play poker, Claire. You’ll lose your shirt.” She laughs.

Amusement slips through me. She’s right about that. I couldn’t bluff my way out of a paper bag. I mull this over as I climb
the steps, carefully hanging onto the saucer so that I don’t drop it or spill the contents of the cup. Isn’t it better to
be a straight shooter? To be honest at all costs? At least no one ever has to wonder where they stand with me. That’s a quality
I admire in the people I keep close to me. I want to know truth above all else. Even my children know that they’ll get in
a lot less trouble if they own up to whatever it is they’ve done. And there’s always something. Believe me.

I enter the amazing bedroom and go to work immediately emptying bags of underwear, bras, shirts, jeans, all things I could
find on sale. I didn’t venture too far from Sears. Other than the size 10 Gap jeans and to Dillards for Clinique skin care
and makeup. Still, five hundred dollars doesn’t go that far when you have to buy a little bit of everything, so it doesn’t
take long to put everything away.

I grab my new SpongeBob pj bottoms and a black undershirt I bought to sleep in. (I really wanted to get a silky nightgown,
but Greg was hovering. I had to order him out of the lingerie section when I picked out new bras and underwear.)

I enter the bathroom and have to bite back a cry of ecstasy. A Jacuzzi tub. Okay, all thoughts of a shower are firmly removed
from my mind. Now I have to go borrow a book from Helen so I can soak and read.

I pad barefoot out to the hallway. I notice a light glowing from the bedroom at the other end of the hall and assume that’s
where Helen’s at.

I tap on the door.

“Come in,” Helen calls. I enter the master bedroom and my jaw drops. I’m pathetic. It’s downright elegant. “Is something wrong?”
Helen is sitting up in bed, reading by the light of a beautiful brass lamp sitting on her nightstand.

“I wondered if you might have a book I can read.” Too late I remember I faked a yawn to get out of our conversation. But considering
she wasn’t fooled in the first place, I’m not surprised by her warm smile.

She nods toward a nook in the corner of the room. “Help yourself.”

Wide-eyed, I step across to a little built-in library. “Wow. This is amazing.”

“Jim built it for me as a surprise on our tenth anniversary,” she says from the other room. “That used to be the nursery.
When we bought the house, I dreamed of keeping it full. But it took us seven years to have Greg and I couldn’t have any more
after him. I suppose nowadays we could find a way. But doctors didn’t know then what they do now about fertility.”

My heart goes out to her. I can’t imagine life without my brood. Just thinking about it, the loneliness squeezes my heart.
How will I survive without my kids for what could be weeks? I’m trying to find the proper response when she apparently takes
my silence for what it is: me not knowing what to say.

“Anyway, Jim knew the nursery made me sad, so he shipped Greg and me off to my mother’s for a week and while I was gone, he
did this as a surprise.”

I pull on the top of a book to bring it close enough to read the spine. “That’s sweet. It’s easy to see where Greg gets his
nurturing.”