Love's Stormy Gale (Heartsong Presents) (11 page)

“Well, I guess I’m glad for you, then.”

“Liar.”

“I hate it when we disagree.”

“We’ll have to agree to disagree, then.” Olivia grinned.

Maggie snorted. “I’ll just have to pray some more.” She shifted to her feet. “Okay, I’ve got the fidgets, dear. I’ll do a couple of laps around the hallway and come back.” She shifted to her feet and waddled from the room.

Chapter 13

S
he hadn’t meant to start a spat with Maggie. Or disturb the woman who’d been praying at the front of the chapel. The lady stood, reached for her purse and smiled at Olivia. Her designer suit made a soft swish as she headed down the aisle for the door. There was something about her—

When the woman paused as she passed Olivia’s bench, Olivia cleared her throat. “Excuse me. I’m sorry if my friend and I disturbed your prayers. My dad’s in surgery today and we wanted a peaceful place to sit.”

“I barely heard you. You weren’t a bother at all.” Her dark hair was swept up in an elegant French twist, her makeup skillfully applied, making her age a number Olivia couldn’t guess. Despite her smile, the woman’s dark brown eyes held a deep sadness.

“So,” Olivia continued, “are you waiting on a family member?”

“My—my husband.” The woman spoke the words as if they were foreign to her. “He’s having surgery. It’s cancer.”

Olivia’s heart pounded in her ears. She assessed the woman’s face, her mind’s eye whisking her back to her living room, to the mantel where a picture from long ago still sat covered in dust.
It can’t be...

The woman’s eyes filled with tears. “You’re...Olivia.”

“You’re...” Olivia couldn’t speak the word.

The woman gave a slow nod. “Belinda Reilly Shea, except I haven’t gone by Shea for a long time.”

Olivia’s head reeled. Should she hug this woman standing before her? Scream at her? Slap her? Or run from the room? She stood, now eye-to-eye with the woman who’d borne her and disappeared one day.

She shook the hand offered her, noting manicured nails and elegant fingers. Olivia looked at her own hands, with similar fingers although nails cut short.

“How did you know about Dad?”

“We, uh, we got back in touch on Facebook not too long ago. He called me and told me about his diagnosis the other day. So I knew I had to come. It’s long past time.” She hung her head low.

A flood of questions crashed from one end of Olivia’s head to the other. Riding on the crest of the flood was the white-hot anger she thought she’d buried for good.

“So, you come now. Is that supposed to make up for the past twenty-some years?” A pent-up torrent threatened to pour from Olivia’s mouth. She clamped her lips closed before the tirade commenced.
God, help me. Please.

“No,” her mother whispered. “I can never atone for the lost years. I know I don’t deserve to be called your mother.”

Just like the prodigal son.
The thought came, unbidden. He had no claim to anything of his family’s, but went home for better or worse. Olivia gritted her teeth. Would Christ welcome her mother home?

But, Lord, You don’t understand. She’s betrayed me.

I was betrayed, too.

She realized she stood silently while Belinda eyed her, from hair to toes. Olivia managed to say, “I don’t know how much longer they’ll be, but...I could use a cup of coffee. How about it?”

Belinda smiled, the same wry grin Olivia had seen reflected in her mirror for as long as she could remember. “I’d like that.”

They left the chapel. Olivia felt like a dentist had given her shots of anesthetic all over, as if she moved in some surreal dream that had turned into a nightmare.
Jonathan, I need you.

* * *

Jonathan waited in his Jeep, debating whether he should go inside the hospital. He knew Maggie was there, waiting by Olivia’s side. He wanted to be there, too.

He rested his head on the steering wheel. “Lord, I don’t know what to do. You know I love Olivia with all that’s in me. But I don’t know how to approach her. I don’t want the past to always loom between us.

“And this Frank. I won’t stand in their way. Give me the wisdom to handle this relationship with Olivia. I don’t know what to say to her sometimes.”

He exited the Jeep and crossed the parking lot. After he found out how Sam’s surgery went, he would ship out, long enough for the cold water of the North Atlantic to numb his heart.

The sliding doors whooshed open to let him through, and Jonathan followed the signs to the surgery wing of the hospital. Maggie was sipping from a bottle of spring water in the waiting room.

“Hey!” She shifted to stand.

“Don’t get up.” He took a seat next to her. “Have you heard anything yet?”

Maggie shook her head. “Not yet. I hate it when these things take so long. I left Liv in the chapel.”

“How’s she doing?”

“Quite well, all things considered.” Maggie paused as if she wanted to say more. “I think she’ll be glad you’re here.”

“I hope so.” Jonathan watched a couple across the room, their weathered and wrinkled fingers entwined. Years of trust mirrored in each other’s gaze.

“Um, if it’s any consolation, I don’t think she and Frank are really dating.” Maggie sighed.

“Ah,” was Jonathan’s response. He didn’t want to mention walking out on the porch that one night, seeing Frank with Olivia. Their relationship might not be serious now, but it could very well head that way. A gurgling sound made Jonathan glance around.

“Oh. My stomach.” Maggie laughed. “Have you had lunch yet?”

“No.”

“Well, come to the cafeteria with me and we’ll grab something.”

They walked the halls slowly to the elevator, then went to the cafeteria floor. Across the crowded room, he saw Olivia and another woman having coffee.

Jonathan and Maggie bought sandwiches and drinks, then Jonathan carried their tray over to Olivia’s table. The look on Olivia’s face and the expression in her brown eyes wrenched Jonathan’s gut. What was wrong? Had something happened to Sam?

“Hi, there. Mind if we join you two?” Maggie pulled one of the extra chairs out and settled into it. “Aah, that’s better. I’m afraid I don’t know you. I’m Maggie Donovan.” Jonathan set their tray on the table and boldly took the vacant seat next to Olivia.

“Hi, Maggie. I’m Belinda.” The women shook hands, and Jonathan introduced himself, as well.

Belinda explained that she was waiting for her husband, who was having surgery, and that she and Olivia had met in the chapel. Olivia sipped her coffee and said nothing as Belinda talked about her flourishing real estate business west of Boston. She was in Fairport for the week.

“So, Jonathan, you’re a fisherman.” Belinda’s dark eyes flashed a glance to Olivia, then back to him.

“Yes, I am. I work a trawler, taking in herring and other kinds of market fish. I’m leaving Monday morning for another run.” He started on his sandwich. Maybe they shouldn’t take too long at lunch. Olivia had the look of a cornered animal. He would hurry through his meal, especially if his presence bothered her.

“That’s a dangerous job.” A worry line appeared on Belinda’s forehead.

He nodded. “It is, but if you keep your eyes open and follow your instincts—plus the weather reports—you can keep safe and make money, too.” His right hand still had stitches from when a fish’s spiny fins had torn through his weathered gloves and into his palm.

“I guess it takes a special kind of man to do a job like that.” Belinda sipped her coffee.

“Er, I don’t know about that. But it’s not for everybody. I know I couldn’t sell houses.” Jonathan turned his hand over and glanced at his palm. Too late he saw Olivia follow his glance.

“Jonathan—” Olivia reached for his hand “—when did this happen?” Her fingers gently traced the stitches on his palm, sending ripples of electricity down the nerve endings of his spine. Forgetting this woman would be a miracle.

“Last week. It’s healing up fine.” Jonathan didn’t bother to tell her that underneath the first layer of stitches was another, deeper layer that secured the tendons together. He decided to downplay his injury.

“Please be careful.”

“I am.” He took a bite of sandwich with his free hand. “I’ll walk you ladies upstairs when we’re through eating.”

Olivia released his hand. “All right.”

Jonathan gathered the coffee cups from the table, wondering at Maggie’s silence. The chatterbox had eaten her lunch without saying anything, but all the while looking from Belinda to Olivia, then back to Belinda again.

To his surprise, Belinda accompanied them to the surgical floor. And to his greater surprise, his and Olivia’s hands met and grasped together until the two of them took their seats in the waiting room.

“Excuse me, I’m going to the ladies’ room.” Belinda went down the hall.

As soon as Belinda had left the area, Olivia turned to face them. “You two are the best friends I’ve got in the world, and I thank God you’re here.”

Jonathan slipped an arm around her, as did Maggie. Olivia leaned into him. “Hey, Sam’s going to be all right. I’m praying for his healing, you know. And he even prayed with me last night.”

She sat up straight, sniffled, then blew her nose on the tissues Maggie offered her. “I know. I’m doing better about Dad. It’s just that Belinda’s my mother.”

* * *

Olivia’s mind reeled from her admission. Saying the words out loud made the facts loud and clear. For the past hour, her thoughts had whirled, but the primary one was,
I’m sitting across the table from my mother.

“Your mother?” Maggie blurted. “Belinda? Why? Why now?”

“She and Dad reconnected on Facebook and he told her about his surgery. I guess the guilt racked her so bad she had to come back to visit.” The words flew from Olivia’s mouth like knives aimed at a target. One of them jabbed her conscience. “I’m sorry.”

“She abandoned you.” Jonathan clenched his jaw.

“I know, but— Well, Belinda’s a Christian now, has been for a while. She told me she’s been trying to figure out how to make things right for a long time. She told me that when she first left it was because she didn’t think she had it in her to be a mother. She wanted more.” Her head ached. Her spirit craved the solace of the chapel. Jonathan’s arm around her shoulders suffused warmth throughout her.

Oh, Dad, I wish you were able to help me with this. Your good sense would come in handy right now.

I am with you always.... Peace, be still.
Olivia felt a peace, deep down under the layer of worry about her father, the numb shock of meeting Belinda and the emotions that wanted free rein. She held on to the knowledge as if it were an anchor.

Thank You, God, for the reminder. I am so hardheaded.
She continued to wait in silence, grateful for her best friend and the man she loved on either side of her.

The man she loved.
With a rush of longing, Olivia looked into Jonathan’s dark eyes. She could lose herself in his gaze, which told her nothing in the world mattered to him except her.

A
pock-pock
of heels made Olivia watch Belinda approach them. She and Dad were complete opposites. Belinda carried herself like a former runway model, every detail of her wardrobe coordinated down to the leather pumps. How did this odd couple match up?

With lithe grace, Belinda settled into the vinyl seat across from Olivia. “Oh, I wish they’d tell us something soon.”

“Yes, it’s been a long morning,” Olivia conceded. A nurse wearing scrubs covered with fluorescent cartoon cats entered the alcove.

“Is Samuel Shea’s family here?”

“That’s us, yes.” Olivia stood, smoothing nonexistent wrinkles from her jeans. A warm hand grasped hers. Belinda. Olivia felt as if she were starring in a movie of the week; things like this didn’t happen to regular people. But she didn’t pull away from the elegant stranger.

“Your father’s in recovery now, and he came through the surgery very well. We’re moving him to his room soon, so I’ll let you know when you can see him for a few minutes.” The nurse smiled at them and left.

Olivia released the pent-up breath and looked at Belinda. “They’ll let us see him. You were going to see him, right?”

Belinda let go of Olivia’s hand. She fumbled with the simple gold chain on her neck. “I—I suppose so. I’m more nervous seeing him, I think, than seeing you. Not that I wasn’t nervous seeing you.” She sighed.

Maggie plucked at Olivia’s elbow. “I’m—I’m going to leave now. I wanted to know for sure you were okay.”

“We are. And we will be.” They hugged. “I’ll call you later?” No doubt Maggie would have more questions.

Jonathan moved to follow Maggie, but Olivia reached for his arm. “Jon, thanks for coming. Except you don’t have to leave. I’m sure Dad will want to see you, too.”

“All right.”

Olivia realized she still clutched Jonathan’s arm. A muscle tightened beneath his sleeve. “I’m glad you’re here. I know it’s been an—an awkward past few weeks.”

“We’re friends.” His warm gaze studied her hand. “That will never change.”

“I know.” Her throat went dry.

He surprised her by pulling her close and kissing her on the forehead. “Good.” She wanted to settle into the comfort of his arms, but stepped back slowly.

The nurse returned, and Olivia was glad to follow the woman. She breathed deeply before walking into the recovery room. Jonathan and Belinda followed so close that if Olivia stopped, they’d trample her heels.

Her father lay quietly, eyes closed. Machines monitored his pulse and breathing. Olivia reached for the bed rail and felt her fingers close around Jonathan’s hand instead. Belinda moved to the other side of the bed.

Her mother said nothing, but the silent tears sliding down the woman’s cheeks said much. Either that, or Belinda was a good actress. The spark of rage threatened to ignite once again, but Olivia fought it off. Not now, not here. She needed to focus on her father.

“Dad, hey.” Olivia swallowed past the throb in her throat. “We’re here. Me and Jonathan, and Belinda.”

Her father’s eyelids fluttered, then opened. Olivia caught the familiar twinkle he reserved for his girl. “I only had my lung operated on. I’m not blind, girl.” Then he seemed to focus on the woman standing on his other side. “Lindy...you came...there’s so much...” Her father’s throat bobbed as he swallowed.

“I know.”

“But stay...stay at the house, please.” He swallowed again.

“Shh, don’t talk.” Olivia leaned over the bed and kissed her father on the cheek. “Rest. I’ll make sure Belinda’s settled in at the house. We’ll have plenty of time to talk later.”