That next afternoon David rang the doorbell of the Chandler household for the third time in as many days. Dreading this visit most of all, he wiped some of the new snow off his coat and stomped the gray slush off his boots.
Lord, please let Allison answer the door instead of Sondra. He startled, surprised by how easily he’d reopened his dialogue with God, particularly when he needed something. And he needed something, all right. He needed to know what to say when he had to face Sondra again.
Unfortunately, he didn’t have time to wait for divine inspiration as the woman in question opened the door.
“Hello.” Sondra kept glancing up at him from under her lashes, looking as embarrassed as he felt.
“Sorry I’m late. I had breakfast with my parents so we could exchange gifts.”
She cocked her head. “What are you doing here?”
“Aren’t we supposed to clean the oven?”
“I’ve already started it. Didn’t Allison tell you it’s self-cleaning?”
She pressed her lips together, the same lips that he’d come so closing to kissing last night. If he were honest with himself, he would have to admit that he still wanted to kiss her, too, right there on the porch. But admitting it was more than his pride could handle.
By now she was wringing her hands and balancing her weight first on one foot and then the other.
“Are you going to come in out of the cold?”
He grinned. “I guess I could.”
Sondra let him in and closed the door behind him, but she seemed to be looking beyond him or beside him. Anywhere but at him.
“I have to get back to the kitchen. Joy’s having a snack.”
As if on cue, the sound of metal pounding on plastic poured out of the kitchen.
David recognized the sound. “She has her spoon again.”
“She loves to beat it on the tray.” Sondra led the way into the kitchen where Joy, buckled safely in her high chair, was performing a drum solo with a teaspoon.
Joy paused from beating on the tray and causing Cheerios to bounce to the floor long enough to turn to him and point. “Dabe. Dabe. Dabe.”
“Hey there, kiddo,” David said.
Sondra bent to pick up some of the mess. “Okay, Joy, we’re going to have to eat some of these, too. The ones that haven’t hit the floor yet.”
David smiled, knowing Sondra couldn’t see him and wouldn’t ask what he found so amusing. At least they had one safe subject—Joy—in their conversation filled with awkward pauses. He had a pretty good idea that the subjects of their trip to the park and a kiss that didn’t happen were off-limits.
Maybe they were better off if they didn’t discuss those things anyway. At least it saved him from wondering when he had transformed from a successful social angler to one who could only wonder about the fish who got away.
Even after getting to know him, Sondra apparently still didn’t think he was good enough for her. All night the reality of it had eaten at him. But worse than being bothered by it, something inside him made him want to prove her wrong. He wanted to tell her he could be different with her. How could he promise that, though, when even he didn’t know whether he would desert her before the never-never land of the third date?
Because that question had no answer and it only exhausted him to search for it, he turned to another safe subject. “Where’s Allison?”
“She’s resting.” She glanced over at him and lowered her voice. “I think she’s still recovering from yesterday’s excitement.”
Concern had him stepping closer to press Sondra for the details he craved. “You’re sure she’s okay?”
Sondra nodded. “I was worried, too, but she assured me she’s just tired.”
David felt his body relax. “Well, okay. At least she’s taking care of herself.”
She smiled at him, the first comfortable expression since he’d arrived. “My cousin is very fortunate to have a friend like you.”
“She didn’t do so badly in the relative department, either.”
“I can’t decide if that’s praise or not since she didn’t exactly choose me.” She tilted her head and studied him. “You were talking about me, right?”
When she started laughing, David joined in, and Joy giggled and clapped her hands. They were finally over their discomfort from last night, and he didn’t want to cause more awkwardness between them, so he decided it would be best for them to just remain friends. Then when she returned to Kentucky, he could wish her well and get back to his own life.
“I’m so glad you talked me into doing this.” Sondra spun around on the sidewalk late that afternoon, holding her hands out to catch snowflakes and feeling like a child seeing snow for the first time. “It’s beautiful out here.”
“I just wanted to get out of the kitchen and away from the smell of the self-cleaning oven burning off the pumpkin pie stuff.” He broke into a feigned coughing fit, covering his mouth with one hand and pushing the stroller with the other.
She nodded. “It was pretty bad, but that whole room shone by the time we were finished with it.”
“Joy needed to get out of the house for a while, too.” He glanced down at the baby, who was asleep and covered with a tiny quilt.
Sondra followed his gaze to the cherublike face. “Looks like she’s getting a kick out of the outing.”
“The cool air’s good for her.” He bent to tuck the quilt up to her chin. “We wore her out with all of those swing and slide races.”
And they had. They’d built a tiny snowman on the neighborhood school’s playground and had shown Joy how to make snow angels, and then David had pushed Sondra on the swing with the child in her lap. They’d even taken a few goofy snapshots on David’s digital camera to share with Brock and Allison.
The afternoon would have been perfect if only Sondra could have relaxed and enjoyed it. Instead, she’d spent the whole time watching David with little Joy and wishing for things she’d never dared to before. A husband. Children of her own. She’d always believed those things were only for other women—ones who weren’t independent, successful businesswomen like she was. Women who didn’t have her particular scars.
Her internal arguments, though, had fallen as flat as the farmland surrounding Destiny. Though an unlikely choice, David was the one who’d made her thoughts about as clear as the mud on those fields. When her feelings for him had metamorphosed from rival to friend to something more, she wasn’t sure, but they had changed, and she had to decide what to do about it.
“We should get back to the house,” David said as he turned the stroller around. “Allison’s probably awake by now and will be getting hungry.”
“My hands are getting numb, too.”
He glanced down at her gloved hands but didn’t say anything. Still, words he hadn’t said—that he’d warmed her hand the night before—hung heavily between them.
“You’ve got snowflakes on your eyelashes.” He stopped the stroller, pulled off his glove and reached over to gently brush them away.
Her face tingled where he’d touched her skin, and she didn’t seem to have any breath left, so she was surprised she was able to get out a rough “thanks.”
“Glad to be of service.”
Only when he’d pushed the stroller past could she finally begin to breathe normally again. Just being near him made her feel alive in a way she’d never experienced before, as if she could do anything just because he was near her. But could she overcome her fears? Could she put her trust in any man and open her heart to him completely? Was she made of the right stuff to trust like that?
Even if she could trust, was David a man she could rely on? He could be a good friend; he’d proven that with Allison. But the trail of broken hearts he’d probably left in his wake suggested that friendship was the most she should ask of him. Could she risk asking for more?
The house was dark when they reached it as, lately, dusk had started stealing daylight before the dinner hour.
“Allison forgot to turn on the Christmas lights,” David said as they ascended the walk. He parked the stroller beside the porch and took out Allison’s keys.
“Maybe she’s still sleeping or reading in her room.”
He nodded, but he still hurried to unlock the door. “I just want to check in on her. She’s been awfully tired all day.” As he pushed the door open, he looked back over his shoulder. “Have you got Joy?”
“Yeah.” She moved to the stroller and unbuckled the toddler, who immediately awakened with a moan and a stretch. “Go ahead. I’ll be right in.”
David didn’t wait for further encouragement before he rushed into the house, heading straight for Brock and Allison’s room. By the time that Sondra had wrestled Joy’s snowsuit from the stroller harness and had reached the room with the still bundled child in her arms, David was sitting on the side of the bed. Allison lay on her side under the covers, her knees drawn up to her middle.
Sondra crossed the room in the three long strides. “What is it? What’s the matter?”
“I knew it. I just knew something was wrong,” David mumbled as he patted his best friend’s shoulder. “You’ve been sick again, haven’t you?”
Allison grimaced, her hands pressed against her barely rounded tummy. A soft moan escaped her before she finally forced out the word “cramping.”
Sondra blinked. She knew she should do something, but her feet felt rooted to the floor. She should say something, but she didn’t have any words. Even with her limited knowledge of pregnancy issues, she knew what cramping signaled: miscarriage. Or maybe something else, equally horrible. After all of Allison’s hard work taking care of her body and even after Sondra and David’s battles to be the best care provider to her, she was going to lose her child anyway.
“I paged Brock. Hasn’t called back.”
“I should have been here,” David grumbled again. “I shouldn’t have—”
“You’ve got to stop it, David.” Sondra words surprised him as much as they had her. She glanced down at Joy’s wide eyes and started swaying so the child didn’t cry.
David shook his head, his thoughts appearing to have cleared. “You’re right.” He turned back to Allison and pushed her hair back from her face as he might have done to a sick child. “We’ve got to get you to the hospital.”
“But Brock—”
“We’ll call him. He can meet us at the hospital.”
David’s clear focus helped Sondra to form a plan of her own. “You get Allison to the car, and I’ll see if one of the neighbors can take Joy for a few hours. I’ll meet you at the car.”
Having a plan helped her keep her thoughts clear as she jogged out the front door with the toddler in her arms. Lord, please be with Allison and her baby. Hold both of them in the palm of Your hand. Amen.
Sondra had to knock on three doors before she found someone at home, but Allison’s friend down the street offered to keep Joy as long as they needed.
David had her cousin stretched out in the back seat of her car where the infant car seat had been before, and he was waiting in the driver’s seat by the time that she came running across the snow-covered lawn to meet them. As soon as she’d climbed in the seat next to Allison and had gathered her close, David threw the gear-shift into Reverse.
“Be careful,” Sondra told him after he took a fast turn. “You don’t want to cause her any more pain.”
“I’m doing the best I can, okay?” Without waiting for her answer, he grumbled under his breath, “I should have been there.”
Allison’s grunt of pain interrupted whatever further self-criticism he would have said next.
“Where’s Brock?” Allison murmured.
Sondra squeezed her cousin’s arm. “Don’t worry, sweetie, he’s meeting us there.”
“I need him.”
“I know you do.”
Allison’s groan filled the car. “Joy?” she managed.
“She’s fine. Jill’s watching her.”
“The baby…”
At least Allison hadn’t phrased the last as a question because Sondra couldn’t have answered her if she had. Only God had those answers. Still, she wished there was something she could say to give her cousin hope.
David answered instead. “God’s with your baby right now, kiddo. The little one’s in good hands.”
Sondra tried not to look at him, tried not to lend too much importance to a comment he’d surely made just to comfort his friend. But she couldn’t help hoping that David was listening to his own words and that he was aware that God was there to support him, too.
He was going to need the support only God could give. Already, David was holding himself responsible for something over which he had no control. If something happened to Allison or her baby, he would never forgive himself.