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“All right. Are you feeling okay? You sound like you’re coming down with something.”
He seemed flushed to her, but he shook his head. “No, no. I’m fine. Just—” he swallowed “—something in my throat.”
“How’d it go with Beau?”
“Just fine.” He looked down, and she felt a spurt of unease, but then he looked up again, a smile crooking up one corner of his mouth. “I have one question, though. Do you have to work a second job to feed him?”
She laughed. “Sometimes. I hope he didn’t clean you out of groceries.”
“Impossible. I didn’t have anything in the house. We had pizza. And burgers.” He grinned. “Fries. Milk shakes. Cookies…”
She rolled her eyes. “What do I owe—”
“Don’t even say it,” Marcus warned, holding up a hand. “I was really glad of the company.”
A loud, slurred voice shouted from inside, “Shut that blasted door! You’re letting out all the heat!”
Nicole immediately stepped outside, pulling the door closed behind her. She folded her arms against the cold and said, “Thank you. And thank you for the coat. He likes it. I can tell.”
“Very fashionable for him,” Marcus quipped.
“Obviously. I—I just don’t want you to think that I routinely let him go to school without a proper coat. I have an early class on Fridays, so he rides with a friend. I can’t imagine why he didn’t take his coat. You know how kids are.”
“Too well. Speaking of coats. It’s too cold for you out here without one.”
“I’m okay. D-Did he say anything about, you know, Dad?”
“Yeah, but listen, we can’t talk standing out in the cold like this.” Marcus glanced around, then took her by the arm. “Come on. Let’s sit in the car.”
Nicole let him tug her toward his roomy sedan. “Good idea.”
He walked her swiftly around to the passenger side and handed her into the car’s interior. It was still warm from the drive over but rapidly cooling. Thankfully, after taking his seat behind the wheel, he started the engine and switched on the heater.
“There. That’s better.” For good measure, though, he lifted his scarf over his head and draped it around her shoulders, spreading it out like a shawl, a narrow one but surprisingly effective, warmed as it was from his body.
He started to shrug out of his coat, but she put a stop to that. “I’m quite comfortable now, thank you.”
“You sure?”
“Absolutely. So what did Beau say about Dad?”
“He said he was ‘sloppy hungover this morning,’” Marcus answered. “That’s why his other coat’s in the hamper.”
She grimaced, not even wanting to know what that meant. She’d find out soon enough anyway. Tossing one end of Marcus’s scarf across her throat, she inhaled. It smelled just as she’d imagined it would, just as she’d imagined he would.
“I thought he was just saying that so you wouldn’t know that he left it home on purpose. His old coat’s too small, and the other kids make fun of him because of it. You know how it is.”
“Yeah, well, the way things are these days, too small could actually mean that it fits, not that these kids would see it that way.”
She laughed. “True. I hate that we can’t afford new things for him, but the way he’s growing it’s all I can do to keep him covered.”
“There are worse things than not keeping up with fashion trends,” Marcus said.
“That’s the way I see it,” she agreed sincerely, but then he got this big grin on his face.
“What?”
“Oh, nothing. I’m just glad to see that you have your priorities straight.”
“Oh. Well, I’m glad you think so. Beau doesn’t always agree.”
“He’s thirteen. I think agreement is a biological impossibility at this point.”
She chuckled. “You’re telling me! He’s not a bad kid, though.”
“I can see that. I meant it when I said I enjoyed his company.”
“I’m sure he enjoyed your company, too, a lot more than he would have the Cutlers. They’re wonderful people, but to Beau anyone over thirty is the enemy right now.” Marcus winced, and she quickly reached out a hand. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that literally. I just meant—”
“I know what you meant. Don’t worry about it. Guess I’m just feeling my age these days.”
“Well, it’s not like you’re arthritic or anything.” Now she winced. “Are you?”
He laughed. “Not that I’ve noticed.”
“Some young people are, you know. I mean, there’s a girl in one of my classes with juvenile arthritis. She’s stiff all the time, and you can, like, hear her joints popping when she moves.”
“No arthritic joints here,” he said merrily. “Not yet, anyway. Thank God.”
“I’d better go in before I wind up with the other foot in my mouth,” she muttered. And before her father took enough note of her absence to ask some awkward questions that she didn’t want to answer.
“Beau’s probably wondering what happened to you,” Marcus agreed softly.
Reluctantly she removed the scarf from around her neck and offered it to him, but he shook his head.
“No, you keep it for now. You can return it on Sunday. Right?”
Nicole draped the scarf around her shoulders and tossed one end across her throat, smiling. “Right. I won’t forget.”
“Okay. See you then.”
“See you then,” she confirmed, opening the door and quickly hopping out. “Thank you, Marcus,” she said just before she closed the door. “Bye.”
He waved and put the car into reverse, but he just sat there with his foot on the brake until she reached the house.
“See you Sunday,” Nicole whispered as she slipped inside.
It wouldn’t be wise to let her father find out what she was planning. He’d had a thing about church ever since her mom had fallen ill. But she knew that going was the right thing to do, if only because she’d promised Marcus. It wasn’t only that, though. Her mother would want them to go, her and Beau.
For too long Nicole had catered to her father’s anger on this subject. Somehow she’d allowed herself to fall into the trap of trying to appease him when she knew only too well that nothing could.
She hoped that Beau wouldn’t put up a fuss. He probably wouldn’t. She thought he’d go because he liked Marcus, but he was going even if she had to bully him. One way or another, Sunday morning was going to find them both sitting on a church pew again.
Her fingers slid over the soft wool draped about her shoulders. It took a moment for her to realize that the feeling growing inside her chest was hope.
It had always lived there. She couldn’t have kept on keeping on otherwise. Suddenly it seemed to be branching out, though, and in some surprising directions.
Smiling to herself, she fairly danced down the hall to her brother’s room.
Chapter Four
Nicole sat on the foot of her brother’s bed and waited for him to get off the computer. He ended the game he was playing and swiveled around on the seat of his chair, one arm on the desk, the other draped over the chair’s hardwood back.
“Where’s Dad?”
“Asleep in front of the TV, probably.”
“You mean he passed out in front of the TV,” Beau corrected.
She didn’t deny it, but she wasn’t here to discuss their father or his drinking problems. She had another matter entirely on her mind. “So what do you think of the pastor?”
Beau shrugged and said nonchalantly, “I like him.”
“Really? You’re not just saying that because you think I want you to?”
“Chillax. I said I like him.”
“So you wouldn’t mind spending time with him again?” Nicole probed carefully.
“I’ll kick it with the pastor whenever you want,” Beau said, turning his chair around to straddle it and fold his arms across the top of the back. “He’s easy to talk to, like one of the guys almost, not like he tries to be one of the guys, though.”
“I know what you mean,” Nicole said. “It’s like he’s really interested in you and what you have to say.”
Beau nodded. Then he asked, “Doesn’t it seem funny that he’s not married?”
Nicole’s heart gave a pronounced thump, but she kept her expression cool. She hadn’t even considered that he might be married. Why hadn’t she looked at his ring finger? Why hadn’t she asked Ovida Cutler?
“How do you know he’s not married?”
“He told me so.”
“Oh? What did he say?”
“Just that he hadn’t found the right woman yet.”
“So he’s looking, then?”
Beau screwed up his face, complaining, “I don’t know. What’re you asking me for?”
“No reason,” she answered nonchalantly. “It’s just that I promised him we’d try out his church this Sunday, and I wanted to know what you thought about him. That’s all.”
Dropping his chin, Beau sent her a pointed look. Clearly she wasn’t fooling him. He knew she was interested in Marcus. She rolled her eyes as if to say she wasn’t, and for some reason Beau chose to let it go. She wondered if that signaled approval or if it meant that he figured she had no chance of attracting Marcus’s interest for herself.
She cleared her throat. “Well? Do you want to go to church on Sunday or not?”
He thought about it before asking, “What about Dad?”
“The way I figure it,” Nicole said, “is that if he goes out on Saturday night, then he’ll be sleeping in on Sunday morning.”
“And he always goes out on Saturday night,” Beau said matter-of-factly.
They stared at each other for several long moments, neither saying aloud what they both knew. It would be better if their father didn’t realize they were attending church, at least initially. Maybe once he saw that it wouldn’t interfere with his lifestyle, he would be amenable. That had proven the case with the issue of Nicole attending college.
For some time before she’d graduated from high school, Dillard had grumbled that Nicole should put any plans to further her education on hold until Beau was old enough to take care of himself. Wisely, Nicole had said nothing, and when the time had come to enroll she had not sought Dillard’s permission. Instead she’d simply taken herself down to the university, signed up for classes and applied for every grant, scholarship and tuition aid she could find. She was halfway through the first semester before her father had realized that she was attending college and his life had not truly been impacted at all. Hopefully, it would be the same way when he found out that they were attending church.
On the other hand, it might turn out to be a one-time deal. Marcus Wheeler’s church might not be to their liking. They might not go back. That’s what she told herself anyway. In her heart, Nicole knew that regular attendance was definitely in her future. She missed going to church, but she hadn’t seen any point in risking her father’s wrath until now.
“You’d better try on your dress slacks,” she told Beau, rising to her feet. “You’ll probably have to wear one of Dad’s shirts.”
Beau nodded, shrugged and turned back to the computer, muttering, “Guess you’ll be going through your boxes.”
“Oh, yeah,” she admitted. This occasion definitely called for something special.
She headed for the garage and the half-dozen boxes that contained everything that was left over from her mother’s and grandmother’s closets. Nicole loved digging through them and wearing the clothes. Not only did it play to her personal tastes, it also saved her a lot of money on her wardrobe. Plus, it made her feel closer to those whom she missed most.
Luckily, retro was “in” right now, not that Nicole cared a fig for being in style. Some of the old stuff in those boxes was worth a good deal in resale shops, though. Once in a while, when money was especially tight, she’d pick out a piece to sell. Usually it was one of her grandmother’s old handbags. Grandma Jean had claimed to have a handbag fetish. She’d accumulated dozens by the time she’d forgotten what the word fetish meant, along with so much else, including the family.
Dillard claimed that Jean was lucky because she couldn’t remember the pain of losing her daughter and husband. Nicole didn’t buy that philosophy, though. She was glad to remember. Every memory was a treasure to her, and she hung on to the memories much as she hung on to those boxes of old clothes.
It was too cold to go through her boxes in the garage, so Nicole towed them into her bedroom, one by one. A couple of them were actually made for garments, with poles for hangers. The rest were neatly stacked with smaller items. She knew exactly what each box held, but at times like this she would pull out every article and spread them around her colorful room, arranged by category. Once the contents of the boxes were properly displayed, Nicole would spend hours choosing what she would wear before lovingly packing it all away again.
On this occasion, she pulled everything out, then went to bed beneath an extra blanket of garments, leaving the decision-making process for the morrow. She wanted to relish this turn that her life seemed to be taking. Even if the ultimate destination was not what she hoped, she intended to enjoy the journey.
Marcus couldn’t contain his pleasure when he looked out across his congregation on Sunday morning at the smiling faces of Nicole and Beau Archer. There were other visitors, as well, of course. The place was packed, in fact, as it often was of late. Even the tiny balcony section, reached via a narrow, winding staircase hidden in the back hall, was stuffed with bodies.
Marcus recognized several families whose children attended day care at the church and was glad that preparations were underway for adding a second morning service in the spring, even though it would mean more work for him. Meanwhile, all those involved in the actual production and execution of worship were busily planning what that second service would involve. At times, like this morning, the excitement was palpable as the church poised itself for that next big step forward.
As he moved into the pulpit, Marcus felt lifted up, his words imbued with a special power. Though he considered himself more of a thoughtful teacher than a spellbinding preacher, he seemed linked to his audience in an unusual manner that morning. It was as if he shared a special connection with every person present, and when all was said and done, the church had added three new families, numbering ten souls in all, to the membership roll. Through every moment, he was aware of the Archers.
Even as he stood at the vestibule door, shaking hands and sharing smiles and comments with the exiting throng, Marcus was keenly aware of Beau and Nicole Archer near the back of the line. Beau seemed somewhat hesitant when Marcus paused to speak with him, but Marcus assumed that it had to do with his painfully awkward appearance.
Beau looked like a poster boy for the underprivileged, dressed as he was in a faded black tie and a white shirt which was considerably too large for him. The cuffs of his shirt sleeves had been rolled back several times to keep them from hanging over the boy’s hands, and the collar was in no danger of choking him, despite the tightly knotted tie. To make matters worse, his charcoal-gray dress slacks were a little too short, showing a bit of white sock above worn black shoes. In addition, his shaggy brown hair slid haphazardly in several directions at once, despite having obviously been parted and wet-combed earlier. He held the coat Marcus had given him, clutched in both arms, like a security blanket.
Marcus knew he had to do something. He called over a couple of youngsters around Beau’s age and introduced them. As the trio stepped aside to talk stiltedly among themselves, Marcus at last turned his attention to Nicole.
While Beau’s attire branded him as a poor kid barely surviving in a harsh world, Nicole managed to look amazingly pretty in her odd getup. Considering the last two times he’d seen her, this outfit was fairly subdued, which was not to say conventional.
Her dark hair fell sleekly past her shoulders from beneath a yellow crocheted cap pulled almost to her delicately arched brows. The crochet was repeated in the ankle-length, purple vest that she wore over a slender, black, short-sleeved sheath, yellow stockings and knee-high, white vinyl boots. She clutched her red gloves in one hand and carried a familiar striped scarf folded over one arm with what appeared to be a royal-blue cape, though it could have been a voluminous coat arranged so that the sleeves were hidden.
Marcus couldn’t help laughing. Not because she looked ridiculous—she didn’t, oddly enough—but because something about her just inspired that reaction. It was as if the sun came out from behind drab clouds when Nicole appeared, as if color suddenly washed a black-and-white world with sparkling, breathtaking hues. Yet, no one could deny that she was a quirky character. Marcus saw the way that others looked at her, the smiles hidden behind coughs and throat clearings, the surreptitious glances and whispered comments. She seemed happily oblivious.
“That was great!” she gushed, rocking up onto her tiptoes as she held his hand. “Inspiring. Honestly!”
“Glad you enjoyed it. I’m delighted to see you and Beau here this morning.”
“We’ll be back,” she announced, beaming.
“Wonderful. If you have a few minutes now, though, I’d like a word with you when I’m done here.” A shadow passed across her eyes, dimming them momentarily. “Won’t take long, I promise,” he added quickly, then glanced pointedly over his shoulder at Beau.
“Oh, um, okay. Sure.”
He directed her to a bench against one wall of the vestibule and made quick work of the few remaining farewells before joining her.
“As I said, I’m really glad to see you and Beau here this morning, Nicole,” he told her. “I’m even happier that you plan to return, and I’d like to help Beau fit in, if I can.”
“I’m sure once he gets to know people…” she began.
“Oh, absolutely,” Marcus agreed. “If I could make one suggestion, though?”
Her slender brows drew together, and her voice carried a wary note despite her polite reply. “Of course.”
“Let him lose the tie, or at least wear it loose and drooping.” He touched his own neat Windsor knot and chuckled. “That’s how our minister of youth wears his. Very cool, I’m told.”
She made a face and relaxed. “I guess we were both thinking about the last time we attended church.” Dropping her head she admitted, “It’s been a long time, you know. Beau was just ten, and what was considered appropriate for a boy that age back then and what’s considered okay now…” She waved a hand.
Marcus chuckled. “Yeah, I know. Some of the older folks complain when they see these kids with baggy pants and the shirttails out and hanging down to their knees, but I figure that this is their church, too, and they should be comfortable. That they’re here is much more important to me than how they’re dressed.”
“I see what you mean.”
“We do have standards,” he went on. “We draw the line at T-shirts with slogans other than Christian ones and head coverings indoors for the boys. We don’t even allow the girls to wear those backward caps that are so popular. Those so-called ‘belly shirts’ are absolutely forbidden, too, and we quietly monitor the length of skirts and, in the summertime, shorts. Otherwise, we pretty much try to go with the flow.”
“Okay. I’ll remember that,” Nicole said. “I mean, it’s bad enough that everything he owns is practically worn out. No reason he should stick out like a sore thumb, too.”
Marcus bowed his head, fingering his chin, and said uncertainly, “Nicole, I could…that is, I’d be glad to—how should I put this?—front you some money on Beau’s behalf.”
She was on her feet and shaking her head before he got the words out. “Uh-uh. No way. Treating him to dinner is one thing, but buying clothes is something else.”
“Think of it as a loan,” he urged, but she was even more adamant in her refusal of that.
“Absolutely not. I couldn’t pay it back, not for a long, long time, anyway.” She folded her arms. “We’ve held out this long. We can hold out until I’ve paid next semester’s tuition. After that we can start taking care of some of this other stuff.”
He wanted to argue. It tore at Marcus’s heart to see Beau going around so bedraggled because Marcus so vividly remembered being that boy. But he remembered, too, the pride that had gotten him through the worst of it, and well-deserved pride was better than new clothes. He wasn’t thinking of the sort of pride that Scripture warned caused downfall but rather the pride that came from doing the difficult thing for the right reasons. Funny that Nicole should be the one to remind him of that.
“You’re right,” he said, rising to his feet. “Forget I mentioned it.”
“That’s okay.” She smiled. “It just shows you care.”
“Yes,” he agreed unthinkingly. “Exactly. I do care.”
“Thank you for that,” she said, and then to his shock, she flung her arms around him in a hug.
For a moment Marcus froze, his arms trapped between them. Heat flashed through him, exploding into red blossoms on his cheeks. To his horror he realized that several of the kids were standing in the open doorway looking in at them, Beau in their midst, with none other than David Calloway in the background.
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