Just to See You Smile (26 page)

Sunday night Joel took Britte into Rockville, to a Chinese restaurant because it was her favorite. He wanted to spoil the girl who diligently chipped away at the brick wall surrounding his heart just by showing up. When she smiled at him or touched his arm, large chunks fell away. Their crashing threatened to trigger another migraine, but so far he was handling things fine. One step at a time.

They lingered over the meal, slowly opening up, making discoveries about each other.

“His name was Eric.” Those singular eyes of hers focused elsewhere as she talked of her old boyfriend.

“What happened?”

“He was from Detroit, where his family ran some business related to the auto industry. He had no intentions other than going back and joining them after graduation. I had no intentions of doing anything but teaching in the Rockville area, preferably in Valley Oaks.” She shrugged. “Somewhere along the way we had missed that about each other.”

“But you were engaged?”

Again she shrugged, attempting to make light of what must have been a painful situation. “It was a beautiful diamond. Really too large for my tastes. I think the family business was a prosperous one. How about you?”

“Engaged once, mostly long distance. I'd been in the Marines for a while when I thought I wanted to get married. When I got out, she…changed her mind.” Should he tell her now? On their first official date? Casually mention over the
mu shoo pork and wonton that he had killed a fellow Marine? That Marti had dumped him like yesterday's newspaper? “Mind if we save that story for another time?”

She reached over and traced a finger along his cheek. “Is it the 'things' you referred to this morning?”

He nodded.

“Are you getting a headache?”

“No. I'm good.”

“Do you have those often?”

“When I'm stressed, which is why I do my utmost to avoid stress, keep my life cut and dry, stick to a master activity list every day.”

“That's why you're neurotically organized.” She smiled.

He chuckled, remembering her accusation when she had stormed into his office. “And why I disassociate myself from feeling too much.” The compassion on her face sent his heart into a double-time beat. “It's why I pulled away.”

“Then why are we here, Joel? On a date? Why would you even consider this…this wooing?”

“Because…the tension of not pursuing this was becoming unbearable.”

After dinner Joel followed Britte into her house to say goodnight. Though she wished the evening wouldn't end, they both admitted they were too spent to stay awake much longer.

She unbuttoned her long coat. “Joel, dinner was great. Thank you so much.”

“You're welcome.” He looked at her, his exhaustion showing plainly on his solemn face. “Uh, I'm not sure about the rules of engagement here.”

She laughed. “That sounds like a military term. What on earth are you talking about?”

His eyes were at half-mast. “What I mean is, in this Christian wooing business, is kissing acceptable on a first date?”

She laughed more loudly. “You haven't dated since you've been a Christian?”

“No, that's not it. I just haven't dated a Christian, not a true-blue, dyed-in-the-wool one like you.”

“And exactly how long have you been a Christian?”

“Seven years.”

Overcome now with giggles, she leaned against the door. “No wonder you get migraines, Mr. Kingsley. I think you're desperate for female companionship!”

“Now you sound like Sam, my spiritual mentor.”

“Maybe you should call and ask him about the rules of engagement.” She crossed her arms, trying to hold in the snickering.

“Hey, I'm being vulnerable here. The least you could do is stop laughing at me.”

“Joel, we've already kissed!”

“That was different. That was unofficial.”

“You are an enigma, but then I've been saying that for a long time. Now that I think about it, we should forego the kiss. Since you're in this desperate mode, I think maybe you'd kiss
anybody
walking by in a skirt. We really should hold off until you're sure.”

He stared at her for a full minute. “You're getting sassy and I'm bushed. I'll see you tomorrow. We'll go over those game tapes.” He squeezed her shoulder and opened the door. “Goodnight.”

Still chuckling, she told him goodnight, shut the door behind him, and abruptly stopped laughing. A wave of disappointment washed over her. How had she managed to
chase him away? She really was too mouthy at the most inappropriate times.

She yanked off her long black boots, hung up her coat in the closet, checked the answering machine in the kitchen, turned off the lights, and started down the hallway. Well, so what if she was mouthy? That was just the way she was. Her mother hadn't managed to change her in 29 years. She certainly wasn't going to roll over and play nicey-nice because a man who 99 percent of the time behaved like a
general
couldn't handle it!

The doorbell rang and her heart leapt into her throat. She took a deep breath. Gordon Hughes would not ring the doorbell. And besides, Cal had him locked up.

She went back into the living room and flipped on a light. At the door, she peeked through the curtain covering the narrow window alongside it. Joel stood on the stoop.

She opened the door. Without a word, he stepped inside and shut it. His eyes never left hers, the glint in them a tangible force that prevented her from speaking.

He cupped her face in his hands, and then he kissed her…rather…deliberately.

He raised his head slightly and announced in his low General's grumble, “We're going to have to work on that sassy attitude of yours, Miss O.”

He walked out the door, once again leaving her speechless.

Anne nestled against Alec, in his arms. They stood in the kitchen. He had already been outside to start the car so it would be warm for her.

“Thanks for the bagel and coffee,” she said. He had made an effort to treat her sweetly that morning.

“You're welcome. Annie, I didn't mean to say sweetheart. I didn't even know I did it.”

She felt herself stiffen. “You sound like Drew. ‘I didn't mean to punch him. I didn't even hear Britte tell us to stop.'”

He kissed the top of her head and drew back, dropping his arms. “Okay, okay. I'll work on taking responsibility for my actions.”

She pulled on her gloves. “Alec, I don't want to be your mother. I only told you because it hurt my feelings.”
Not to mention that it clarified where I stand with you.
But she wasn't going there. It was time to leave for work.

“It's all right. I deserved that one.”

“Who was she anyway?”

“Tracy.”

“Ahh, the cute, bubbly, young one.”

“Well, you wouldn't want me calling just anyone ‘sweet-heart,' would you?”

“Nope.” She put her hand on the doorknob.

“I didn't mean anything by it.”

“Alec, I know that.” She looked over her shoulder at him. “Which translates that it doesn't mean anything when you
call me that. So,” she shrugged, “let's stop pretending and move on.”

He swallowed. “I'm sorry.”

She went to him and kissed his cheek. “Bye.”

“Bye. Be careful. I'll put the rest of those Christmas boxes in the attic today.”

Right. She'd heard that one before.

Alec trudged up the narrow staircase with the last of the boxes packed with ornaments. He walked across the attic to the designated Christmas corner, sneezing on the dust swirled into motion with his footsteps.

The attic was unfinished business, with exposed rafters beneath the slanted roofline and only half the floor area covered with boards. The walls were insulation packed between the studs. However, there were two nice dormer windows overlooking the front yard. The space would make a great playroom. Of course, the kids were almost grown out of playrooms. Amy thought it'd be perfect for sleepovers, though. All it needed was a floor, ceiling, walls, bathroom, and, she added, why not a kitchenette?

That knot of dread had grown overnight and was now twisting, demanding attention. He shuffled over to another corner and sat on a trunk.

How was it the kids had outgrown a playroom before he had had time to build it? If he started today, Mandy might enjoy it for a few months, before she got caught up next year in middle school and stopped playing dress-up or imaginary classroom or with dolls. Maybe if he created it, though, she wouldn't stop playing those games. She could keep pretending.

Alec propped an elbow on his knee and put his hand against his face in time to catch the sob. What did Annie mean, she was tired of pretending? Their life was good together. They were busy, productive people. They were friends. Friends that confided, friends that spent time together— Yes, they spent time together!

Another thought nagged.
Oh, Lord.

He closed his eyes and let it develop.

Their time together…their
alone
time together was…limited. Limited? One Thursday night date in how many years? Make that infrequent. No, truth be told, their alone time was nonexistent. Is that what she meant, that she wasn't first in his life? That he wasn't in hers? That she wanted to quit pretending that they were and get on with other things? What other things?

She had sprouted wings because she had been pushed from the nest, her Valley Oaks nest. And yes, he had encouraged it. He had panicked, imagining their growing needs and feeling like a failure as a provider when the promotion didn't happen. He had taken his eyes off of God, the One who had always met their needs.

I'm sorry, Lord! Make it right again. Make us right again. Annie's my everything. How do I show her that?

He let the tears fall now. How could he have done this to her? She was always there for him, supporting who he was with her quirky smile and beautiful gray eyes and her great capacity for not complaining.

And he'd let her down. Broken that promise that they would do it the old, traditional way. He would financially support them and— The vows! There were vows. They had literally written down that promise in their vows, not the public ceremony vows, but— What had they promised? They'd kept a copy, hadn't they? They would have kept a copy. Where—?

The trunk he was sitting on.
Annie called it their memory treasure chest. It was an old hand-me-down, her version of a cedar hope chest she could never afford. He opened the lid and the scent of cedar floated out. She must have placed cedar blocks inside to keep their treasures from smelling like hand-me-down stuffiness.

Two hours later Alec sat on the floor beside the trunk, memories strewn about him. Memories in the form of dried flowers; high school football programs; ticket stubs; packets of letters; a shoebox of photos; a handkerchief; a scarf; his letter sweater wrapped in tissue paper and plastic; a sketch-book of her drawings, mostly of their college campus and a nearby state park; a large manila envelope.

He held each memento, racking his brain for its significance. They should do this together. Between them they would remember everything. The two of them together… They needed each other.

He reached into the envelope and pulled out a handful of loose papers. There were favorite quotes, poems, scraps of paper with notes to each other…and, in a folder, in plastic covers…the vows.

Anne's were written, of course, on pale pink stationery, now faded, in calligraphy. His were printed in block letters— his cursive was unreadable—on copier paper with a black ballpoint.

Alec wiped at his eyes. He felt like a kid who, while digging a tunnel to China, had unearthed a box of priceless gold coins.

They had written these for each other. During the wedding ceremony at the church, they had recited the traditional vows, promising to love, honor, and cherish, whatever those vague terms meant. That night in the hotel's honeymoon suite, they had exchanged their personal ones, hoping to make the abstract specific.

His young wife had promised to kiss him every morning with a smile…make the coffee…run the household…pay for his grad school…change 95 percent of the diapers they hoped to need…bake his favorite cookies and always have some in the freezer…always be pleasant to his mother…clean the gunk out of the sink strainers…and pray for him every single day…

Alec smiled. Last time he checked the freezer, they were down to a dozen chocolate chip cookies, still his favorite after 17 years. Was she praying for him?

He hesitated before turning to his. What had he forgotten?

The biggie jumped out at him, as he feared it would. “I promise to—right after grad school—totally support us financially. We will always make ends meet on my check alone so that you can be a stay-at-home mom until all six kids are out of high school.”

It wasn't the way he had grown up. His favorite, most comfortable memories as a little boy were of staying at his Grandma Lottie's. His earliest memories were of spending summer days with her and Grandpa Peter. Their house felt more like home than his own. Even with a younger brother and sister, he was often lonely. And so, he had wanted six kids for him and Annie to love to pieces day in and day out.

They had lost the fourth baby, five months in the womb. There were no more after that.

“I promise you will always be my one and only
sweet-heart
.”

The tears flowed now.
Dear God, what happened? I didn't mean for it to happen.

After a time, Alec felt a cleansing effect. He had come to the end of himself and realized there was no other place to hide. God was carrying him now.

His eyes fell on the loose papers. In those early, exhilarating, romantic days Anne often copied poems and quotations that
moved her. He picked one up. It was a poem by Edgar A. Guest.

“Send Her a Valentine”

Send her a valentine to say

You love her in the same old way.

Just drop the long familiar ways

And live again the old-time days

When love was new and youth was bright

And all was laughter and delight,

And treat her as you would if she

Were still the girl that used to be.

Pretend that all the years have passed

Without one cold and wintry blast;

That you are coming still to woo

Your sweetheart as you used to do;

Forget that you have walked along

The paths of life where right and wrong

And joy and grief in battle are,

And play the heart without a scar.

Be what you were when youth was fine

And send to her a valentine;

Forget the burdens and the woe

That have been given you to know

And to the wife, so fond and true,

The pledges of the past renew.

'Twill cure her life of every ill

To find that you're her sweetheart still.

“Daddy! Daddy! Where are you?”

“Up here, Mandy.” Alec wiped his flannel sleeve across his face and took a deep breath.

His daughter's light footstep tapped on the wooden stairs. “Here you are! Mr. Kingsley is on the phone.” She handed him the cordless.

“Thanks, punkin.” He held out his other arm, inviting her to sit on his lap. She settled in. “Joel. Morning.”

“Hi, Alec. Hope I'm not disrupting anything.”

“Not at all. What's up?”

Joel cleared his throat. “I need some advice from a school board member, preferably one of my allies.”

“At your service.”

“Thanks.” He took an audibly deep breath. “Is there any rule against a principal dating a teacher?”

Alec chuckled. “I don't think so. I hear female teachers can even be married now. And if you were to smoke and have a few at the neighborhood bar, only a handful of folks would frown.”

“I suppose that's my real question. How many would frown if I courted Britte? No smoking and drinking involved.”

Alec laughed now, as heartily as he had been crying earlier. “Congratulations!”

“Uh, thanks, but you didn't answer my question.”

He glanced at the poem on the floor near his knee and hugged Mandy. “Three unfortunate, miserly wretches come to mind, but then their faces are always pinched and only one of them has a vote on the board. Joel, it doesn't matter what Valley Oaks thinks. If you're falling for Britte Olafsson, don't let
anything
get in your way. I've been married for 17 years, and nothing, absolutely
nothing,
compares to that relationship. Don't let life get in the way. That
is
life, real life.”

“You're sure about that?” he asked, his tone facetious.

Alec smiled at his own adamancy. “You caught me at a strange moment. By the way, do you have any ideas on how to be romantic? I'm a little out of practice in that department.”

It was Joel's turn to laugh. “Tell me about it.”

“Come on, help me out. What are you doing with Britte today since there's no school?”

“She's coming over and we're talking coaching.”

“Now that certainly sounds romantic.”

“It's who she is, you know. And I'm cooking dinner for her.”

“Ahh, now we're getting somewhere.”

“I want to take her to Chicago to see the Bulls play because I think she'd like that.”

“I bet she would.”

“Valentine's Day is coming.”

“When?”

“Man, you are out of practice. It's always the same, February 14. That'll be here in about a month. So I want to buy something special for her. Britte's not the roses-and-candy type, but I'll figure something out.”

“Anne's not the roses-and-candy type either.”

“Well, you've known her for a long time. Shouldn't be too hard. Thanks, Alec. I really appreciate your encouragement.”