Читать книгу Her Wedding Wish - Jillian Hart - Страница 10

“Sorry.”

Danielle glanced up from pouring Jonas a second cup of morning coffee. “What are you sorry for?”

“Falling asleep.” He didn’t look at her as he concentrated on wrapping his hands around his spoon. Long months of hard rehabilitation had helped, but his motor skills were still limited.

She popped open the top of the flavored coffee creamer and poured it for him and then added some into her own cup. “It was a big day for all of us yesterday, with you coming home.”

“You’re dis-disappointed.” He stumbled on the word.

Since she couldn’t admit that, not without hurting him, she set the carafe on the ruffled blue place mat at Tyler’s empty place and slipped into the chair. “Are you?”

He gulped. “Could be easier.”

She nodded, seeing now what she’d been too busy this morning to notice, getting Tyler ready for the church summer program and keeping Madison out of trouble. Jonas had managed to dress himself in a sweatshirt and jeans, but the sweatshirt hung on him, twisted to the left. His feet beneath the table were in socks, not shoes. “I should have helped you more this morning. I’m sorry. I won’t forget again.”

“You helped enough.” Jonas straightened his shoulders, as if his pride were involved, too. “The kids first.”

“Yes. That’s what we agreed back in Seattle, but—” She stared down into her steaming mug, unable to find any answers in the dark depths. She’d let him down, and that’s the one thing she didn’t want to do. Somehow she had to figure out a way to manage everything on her own. “It’s going to be difficult for a while, but I don’t mind working hard for you, Jonas. For the kids. For us.”

He swallowed hard, as if her words mattered to him, and turned in his chair toward the wall. “Our wedding pictures.”

“Yes.” She looked at them, too. How young and carefree they seemed back then. On impulse, she rose and plucked the collage frame from the wall. “There are some of the reprints I framed up from that day. I should dig out our wedding album. It’s in the closet somewhere out of reach, for safekeeping.”

“You’re smiling. It must have been a good day.”

“One of the best of my life.”

She laid the gold frame on the table, and he moved his coffee cup aside to make room. As they leaned forward to study the pictures together, she smelled the scent of his shampoo and the soap on his skin. Her heart cinched a notch. Yes, she thought, tenderly, he was still her Jonas. “If you notice, you’re smiling, too.”

“Yep. I look pretty happy.”

“You were.”

She touched her fingertip to the glass frame, where they’d just parted from sharing their first kiss as man and wife. Hand in hand, they stood smiling, facing their family and friends with the jeweled light from the sun-drenched stained glass gracing them. Their happiness was palpable, so shining and new. “I wish you could remember how that felt to finally be married. To be together with the whole world at our feet.”

“Was our marriage good?”

She noticed the concern in his eyes, the sadness on his face and the wonder. It was not fair that one bullet had stolen so much from him. At least she had the memories of their love. At least she knew what they could have again. “It was very good.”

“We were close.”

“Yes. Very close.”

He nodded once in acknowledgment but not in understanding.

How did she tell him that was her greatest fear? That they might never find one another again. They might never again share that rare close bond they’d had. Grief stabbed deep into her soul, and she fought it away. She had to keep her faith strong and believe that God would not forsake them. “We were best friends. Best…everything.”

“E-very-thing.” Jonas lingered over that word, as if he were trying to figure out what that meant. He remained bent over the pictures.

She moved away and took the carafe with her to rinse in the sink. All around them, hung on the walls or in stand-alone frames or snapshots tacked to their refrigerator, were photographs of their life together, of the babies and of the kids growing up. Of a happier time—her soul ached with sadness for the loss of that happy, innocent time when Jonas was whole.

It wasn’t fair to keep wishing for the past, she thought as she turned to the sink, rinsed out the pot and slipped it into the top rack of the dishwasher. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Jonas struggling to stand, his attention focused on one of the photographs on the wall. She leaned a little to see what he stared at with such fascination. Her heart stopped when she recognized the picture. It was of her, propped up in a hospital bed, exhausted from forty-one hours of labor and cradling their precious son in her arms.

He did not remember that day, she realized, or how happy they were and how proud he was. She closed the dishwasher quietly, feeling reality settle into the damaged places in her heart.

When he looked away, she saw his eyes were silvered with tears. Tears that did not fall as he blinked them away and straightened his shoulders. Strong—that was her Jonas, always strong.

“I’ll help you to remember,” she promised him with all the strength and faith in her soul. “It’s going to be all right.”

In the corner, untouched by the sunlight that tumbled through the big picture window, Jonas nodded. He didn’t look as if he believed her. Not one bit.

There was a knock at the front door—the quick tap-tap of her mom’s signature knock. Already her key was in the lock and the doorknob was turning. The security system chimed as the front door swung open. Danielle straightened, turned off the faucet and reached for the dish towel to dry her hands.

“Knock, knock. Hello!” Dorrie’s smile was bright, as always. She was a wonder and an incredible mother.

Danielle knew she paled by comparison. “Come on in. I just washed out the coffeepot. I can make fresh.”

“I had my morning quota, my dear. Jonas, it’s great to see you home—” Her pleasant voice was drowned out by Madison shouting from the living room.

“Grammy! Grammy! Grammy!” Bare feet padded on the carpet and then on the linoleum as the little girl—today a mermaid—burst into sight, flinging her arms wide and wrapping them tightly around her grandmother’s knees.

“Hi, honey. Are you going to let Grammy take you to your swimming lessons?”

“Yip. I kin blow bubbles and kick!” Soft brown curls tumbled over her shoulders as she leaned her head back to grin up at her grandmother.

“I can’t wait to see. Do you have your bag all packed?”

Danielle chimed in. “I got it half-finished. It’s on the foot of her bed, I just have to grab a towel.”

“I’ll do that. No worries. What time is Jonas’s appointment?”

“Nine-thirty.” Danielle glanced at the clock on the stove. “We should leave in a few minutes.”

“I’ll finish up here, too. That’s why I’m here, to help out. I’ll have lunch all ready when you get back. Jonas, I hope you still like tuna casserole.”

“Y-yes.” Jonas was struggling with his walker to get around the table. His left leg was very stiff.

She resisted the need to run to his side. For him it was a matter of pride.

He ambled toward her, but his gaze was on their little daughter, in her mermaid shirt and matching pants, her soft curls and sweetness.

“Madison,” he said. “I like to swim, too.”

The little girl’s eyes widened, and she sidled around to hide behind her grandmother. She stared at Jonas and didn’t say anything at all.

Danielle couldn’t breathe for the pain in her heart. Madison had Jonas wrapped around her little finger since the moment she’d come into the world.

Jonas shuffled forward, but it was the sadness in his eyes that both kept her silent and that gave her hope as he eased alongside his walker. He had one hand on the edge of the counter and the other on the walker’s grip.

“You don’t like this?” he asked the toddler, nodding at the metal appliance.

From behind her grandmother’s knee, Madison shook her head again, scattering her soft curls. “No!”

“Me, either.” He took a shaky step away, unsteady as he shuffled forward without much support.

She was across the kitchen, holding her husband’s elbow without thought, but he didn’t lean on her. No, no matter how much support Jonas needed, he would not do that. He did allow her to keep him steady at this crucial moment as he went a few uncertain inches forward.

Their little girl took a cautious step out from behind her grandmother, looking relieved the scary metal thing had been left behind.

Jonas leaned forward and held out his hand, a father’s devotion sincere and quiet. He waited while Madison bit her bottom lip, debating the merits of approaching her daddy now.

When Madison looked up to her, Danielle nodded and smiled. “It’s okay, honey,” she said and scrunched down a bit to be more at the toddler’s level.

Encouraged, Madison took a step toward her daddy. “Why you got that?”

Jonas’s smile was wobbly and looked relieved. “Because my leg doesn’t work so well. But it’s gonna be better.”

“Oh. Okeydokey.” Madison laid her hand on his, studying him trustingly. “You gonna come see me swim? I kin kick real fast! Jest like a mermaid.”

“I’d sure like to see that sometime soon.”

“Yip.” Madison grinned hugely. “C’mon, Grammy! I shew you my towel!”

Danielle rose to full height as the little girl grabbed her grandmother by the hand and pulled her through the kitchen. She was thankful, deeply grateful.

She turned to Jonas, who waited until Madison was out of sight before he grabbed for the edge of the counter. She tugged his walker to him, holding him steady. He looked too tired from the effort and his leg was shaking, but his smile was pure Jonas.

“This is going to work out just fine,” she told him, certain of it now. “You wait and see.”

“I brought my toolbox,” Dad said in his gruff, good-guy way as he shouldered through the front door and stomped his boots on the entry rug. “Figure the boys and I can get a few things done for you around here.”

Danielle looked up from the counter where she was peeling carrots for the salad. Her burdens lifted at simply seeing her father—her stepfather, who’d adopted her when he’d married her mother long ago. Gratitude filled her right up. She couldn’t have a better father, and she loved him. “Dad, this is supposed to be a celebration dinner. You shouldn’t be doing work around here. We can worry about things getting done later.”

“Nonsense. You know me. I’m not happy unless I’m busy.” He winked, and his smile was good-natured as always. “Might as well make myself useful while I’m here. And what about you, missy?”

“What about me?”

He set down his toolbox against the entryway wall. “You sure you ought to be in here working like that? Your mother isn’t gonna be happy if she and the kids come back from the grocery store and see that you aren’t taking it easy like she told you to.”

“I’m fine, Dad. Really.” She smiled to prove it to him. “You know me. I’m not happy unless I’m busy.”

He shook his head slowly from side to side and, judging by the squint to his friendly blue eyes, he wasn’t fooled one bit. “Jonas resting?”

“He fell asleep on the couch. He had a tough physical therapy session.” Not to mention the doctor appointment before that. “Let me get you something cool to drink, Dad. It’s a scorcher out there.”

“Looked like it was trying to storm to me.”

“Storm?” That couldn’t be good news. She hadn’t had time to check any weather report. Apparently she’d been too busy trying to get a start on dinner prep to look out the big garden window over the sink and counter.

Now that she did look, she saw thunderheads were gathering on the horizon. Huge ones. That might not bode well for their backyard picnic. And for her not to have noticed, well, it only went to show how tired she felt.

Great. She squared her drooping shoulders and put down the peeler. “I’ll get you some iced tea.”

“I’ll do it myself, missy.” Dad ambled her way, still a big man despite the fact that he’d passed retirement age. “But I will take one of those brownies. They smell awful good.”

Danielle reached for a clean knife and joined him at the opposite counter to cut him a generous piece. “You’re going to spoil your appetite.”

“Yeah, I know.” Dad was smiling as he tore a paper towel from the dispenser and held it to use in place of a plate. “No one anywhere makes a better brownie than you. You even got Ava beat.”

One of her younger sisters, Ava, was a professional baker. A high compliment, but one she’d heard before. Plus, Dad was generous with compliments. She kissed his cheek. “Why don’t you go put up your feet? If you don’t want to disturb Jonas, you can use the TV either in the basement or in our room.”

“No, I don’t mind bothering Jonas.” Dad winked as he strode out of sight. The faint rumble of his voice in the living room told her that Jonas must have woken up.

When she peered around the corner to check on him, he had straightened up on the couch. Now sitting up, he was sleepy-looking and pale, but he seemed glad of the company. That had to be a good sign, right? She worried about the evening ahead. Her family—bless them—had dearly wanted to see Jonas again. But was he up to so much at once?

Well, they would find out. She hoped so. She wanted him to see that he wasn’t as alone as he had to feel. She leaned her shoulder against the archway to watch as Jonas talked with her father, someone else he didn’t remember. But within moments they were both smiling and talking like old friends.

Great. She blew out a breath of relief and went back to her carrots. The men’s voices rumbled pleasantly as she finished peeling and dug the pitcher of iced tea out of the refrigerator.

The house was relatively quiet without the little ones—Mom had taken them with her on her grocery run. She missed Tyler’s constant motion and Madison’s constant chatter underfoot. And thinking of the kids made her remember how it used to be—how Jonas would always hang around the kitchen and help her, grazing on whatever was handy to snack on.

Hard to imagine, since Jonas and her dad had once been close.

There was a knock at the front door, a few quick, no-nonsense raps and then a key turned in the lock. Spence, the oldest of the clan, poked his head in. “Hit the garage door opener for me, would ya? I’ll get the front yard mowed before Dad thinks of it.”

“Thank you, Spence.”

“Don’t mention it.” He shut the door firmly.

The oven timer chose that moment to beep. She hit the off button, snagged an oven mitt from the closest drawer. She knelt to lift the casserole pot of baked beans from the oven and onto a trivet on the counter. While she heard Dad and Jonas talking, she tried not to focus on her husband’s halting words—that halting was worse when he was tired, she’d learned. She ached for him.

This was not fair. She had to lay aside her anger at the desperate gunman who had fired that shot. Jonas hadn’t deserved that, and yet it had happened just the same. She rushed around to the inside garage door and caught sight of him on the couch—struggling to find the right words while Dad waited patiently.

No, she thought, her heart heavy. This was not fair. Surely there was some good that would come out of this—some good the Lord would find in all this hardship. But for the life of her Danielle couldn’t figure out what. She yanked open the inside door and hit the button.

The churn of the opener’s engine drowned out the sound of her husband’s voice. As the door lifted, there was Spence, in T-shirt and denims, storming into the garage like a hulk. His grimace was hardly a grimace at all, which meant he must be in a very good mood. He grabbed the lawn mower and wheeled it out into the driveway. The roar of the engine coming to life echoed in the garage.

Talk about a reliable guy. Danielle loved her brother. She couldn’t have a better one—or a better family, and she thanked the Lord for them every day. She’d just hoped there would be less need for their help after Jonas’s homecoming. They’d done so much. They had to be exhausted, too.

She heard the air conditioner click on and felt the swirl of cooled air against her ankles and shut the door, leaving it unlocked so Spence could find his way in after his mowing. She remembered the kitchen work awaiting her. She wanted to get it done so that her mom didn’t have any choice; she couldn’t help with dinner because it would already be done. Mom had done more than her share already.

It was Jonas’s voice, low and sonorous, that made her stop halfway to the kitchen. Seeing him so changed still hit her hard every time.

“Is that right, John? Yellowstone, you say?”

“Yep,” Dad was saying. Always brief on words but long on heart. “You said the RV drove real fine. Yep, real fine.”

“I’m sure it did. Don’t remember it.”

“Well, it did.”

Jonas noticed her standing there and it was hard to tell by the look on his face if he was glad to see her or not. When he looked at her, he had to feel more pressure to remember. And that was the last thing she wanted. He had pressure enough.

“Dani.” Dad turned in the chair and winked at her. “I’m gonna take Jonas with me.”

“What? Where?” Jonas looked confused. Maybe a little panicked.

He might not remember that she was always on his side. That she would never forsake him, even when it came to her own family. “Dad, Jonas might not be up to working with tools yet.”

“Tools?” Jonas’s eyes widened in surprise.

He could not know that it was a family thing, he and Dad and Spence, always eager to fix what was broken. He would not remember how it used to be, that when Dad assumed Jonas’s help in all kinds of family construction projects, Jonas would find a moment to come up to her and lean close so that only she could hear. He would say in that affable way of his, “I don’t remember getting my draft notice.”

No, Jonas did not have any idea how they would chuckle quietly together before he would go off to help her dad.

Now, Jonas seemed uncertain, but when he looked down at his hands she realized why. After so much nerve damage, he could not handle carpenter tools. What could she do to reassure him? “Dad, you give Jonas a rest on this one. He’s recuperating. He can watch if he wants to and keep you company, but it might be better if he rests.”

“Yep. Gotcha.” Dad nodded once and rose to his feet as if that were settled. “Well, what do you say, Jonas? You want to come keep an eye on me?”

“You need it.” Humor glinted in his hazel eyes, and his lopsided grin could not be dearer.

Danielle felt hope buoy her. “I’ll bring back some tea for both of you.”

“Thanks, missy.” Dad scooted Jonas’s walker closer within reach. “C’mon, son, we’ve got work to do.”

“Yes, sir.” Jonas struggled to his feet and winked at her over the top of her dad’s head.

Danielle practically floated to the kitchen, full of gratitude that her whole family was together again.