The Forgiving Hour (34 page)

The salesclerk poked her head through the opening in the dressing room curtains. “Oh, that’s definitely the one, isn’t it?”

Sara nodded as she looked toward the mirror again. She didn’t know if she’d ever seen anything more exquisite than this gown. And she should know. She’d tried on at least forty of them in the past few weeks. But this one was special. Yards and yards of satin, lace, and tulle. Hundreds upon hundreds of shiny pearls and beads. An elegant ten-foot train. This was most definitely the one.

“I have the perfect veil for it,” the clerk said. “I’ll be right back.”

Dakota’s bride,
Sara thought, hardly aware that the salesclerk had spoken. She pressed her palms against her stomach in an effort to still the tingling sensations inside her.
Dakota’s wife.
In less than two months, she would stand before him in this gown and pledge to be his, forever and always.

“Oh, Mama,” she whispered, her vision blurred. “I’m so happy, I’m almost scared. What if something goes wrong?”

Kristina released a halfhearted laugh as she dabbed at Sara’s tears with another tissue. “What could go wrong? Dakota loves you so much. It’s evident to everyone who sees you two together.” She hugged Sara, careful not to crush the gown. “I’ve never known a couple more meant for each other than the two of you.”

“Here we go.” The clerk entered the dressing room. In her hands she held a white satin hat with a wide brim and a long, delicate veil. She waited for mother and daughter to release each other, then stood behind Sara, holding the hat over Sara’s head. “It will be spectacular with your red hair. See? You’d wear it at a slight angle. Like this.” She put the hat in place.

The woman was right. It went perfectly with the gown.

And her mother was right too.

What could possibly go wrong?

The chirping of her cellular telephone brought Sara abruptly back to the present. She flipped the phone open and held it to her ear. “Hello?”

“Hi. It’s me.”

She smiled, the mere sound of Dakota’s voice causing her heart to race. “Hi, me.”

“Where are you?”

“Almost to Twin Falls. I didn’t get away as soon as I’d wanted.”

“Shoot. I was hoping you were closer than that. Guess that means I won’t see you until tomorrow.”

She heard the words he didn’t say. “I’ve missed you too.”

Twitter-pated.
That’s what the Wise Old Owl in
Bambi
had called this strange, wonderful feeling in her stomach. All jittery and fluttery, like she’d just gotten off a carnival ride.

“Did your mother get home all right?”

“Yeah. And she liked your cookies too.”

“Did you tell her I was sorry not to meet her at the airport?”

“Of course.”

“I wish I could’ve been there.”

“She understands, Sara. Hey, guess what?”

“What?”

Softly, “I love you.”

The warm, curling sensation in her stomach intensified. “I love you.” She never tired of hearing it or saying it.

“I told Mom we’d be over about one o’clock tomorrow. How about if I pick you up and we go to lunch first?”

“I’d like that.”

“Okay. I’ll be at your place by eleven-thirty.”

“I’ll be ready.”

There was a moment of silence on the other end of the line, then, “I sure wish we’d eloped so that you’d be driving home to me right now.”

Me too.

“You call when you get in. I don’t care what time it is. I’ll be up.”

She loved the caring tone of his voice. “I will. The instant I’m in the door, I’ll call you.”

“Drive safe.”

“I will.”

“Keep it under eighty, will you, please?”

She chuckled. He knew her tendency for exceeding the speed limit. “I will.”

After a little more billing and cooing on both ends, Dakota said good-bye and hung up. Sara pressed the phone against her heart, as if doing so would bring her closer to him.

Twitter-pated, indeed.

She laughed aloud as she pressed her foot down on the accelerator.

THIRTY-FOUR

Clothes littered Sara’s bedroom. Dresses and slacks and blouses lay in puddles on the floor. They were also draped over the back and seat of a chair and were piled high on the unmade bed.

“It still isn’t right,” she muttered as she looked at her reflection in the mirror.

She unzipped the blue cotton dress, let it fall to the floor, and kicked it aside, letting it join the others she had also deemed inappropriate for meeting Dakota’s mother.

“I should have gone shopping. I should have bought something new.”

A glance at her bedside clock told her Dakota would be there at any moment. Out of time, she groaned as she reached for one of the few remaining items in her closet.

“Please let this one be okay.”

She’d just hooked the clasp above the zipper of the lime-green jersey dress when her doorbell announced his arrival. With another groan, she went to answer it.

He grinned the moment their eyes met. “Wow!”

“It’s too short, isn’t it?” She tugged on the soft, knit fabric. “Maybe it’s too tight. Do I look like I’m trying to be younger than I am?”

“No, no, and no.” He gave her a quick kiss. “You look perfect. The dress is just right. I love that color on you.”

Unconvinced, she turned from him, heading down the hall. “I should’ve put my hair up. It’s a mess. I look like I just got up.” Another glance in the mirror made her want to crawl beneath the covers and clothes on her bed and hide there.

Dakota appeared in her bedroom doorway. “Would you relax? You’re meeting my mom, not the Wicked Witch of the West.” He chuckled softly.

“You don’t understand!” She whirled toward him. “I could throw a bucket of water on the Wicked Witch and melt her. I want your mother to
like
me.”

“Ah, sweetheart …” He went to her and gathered her into a warm and tender embrace. “We’ve been over this a dozen times already. Mom won’t be able
not
to like you. She’s going to love you.” He kissed the top of her head. “And it won’t matter if your hair is up or down. It won’t matter what you’re wearing. It’s who you are that matters, and that’s who she’s going to see and love.”

“You’re just saying that to make me feel better.”

Another chuckle rumbled deep in his chest. “Maybe. But it’s also the truth.”

“It’s not fair.”

“What isn’t?”

“You knew my family before you met me. You didn’t have to be nervous like this.” She tipped her head back and looked up at him. “They already loved you before I did. I think my sisters-in-law had us married before we ever left the airport.”

One corner of his mouth lifted in the lopsided grin she adored. “You never stood a chance, did you?”

The tension began to drain from her. “No.” She tightened her arms around him. “Not for a moment.”

Dakota lowered his mouth to hers. Sara rose on tiptoe to meet him. The kiss was slow and sweet, and it restored her confidence, at least momentarily.

Claire removed the freshly baked coffee cake from the oven. Her stomach growled as the warm scent filled her nostrils, but she knew she couldn’t eat a bite. There wasn’t room in her stomach for food with all those butterflies in there.

Setting the cake on a rack to cool, she opened the refrigerator and removed the container of decaffeinated coffee from the tray in the door. As she measured the dark grounds into the filter, she noticed her hand was shaking.

An old saying repeated in the back of her mind:
A son is a son till he takes a wife. A daughter’s a daughter all of her life. A son is a son till he takes a wife … Till he takes a wife … Till he takes a wife …

Was she going to lose Dakota to Sara? She was prepared for things to be different, just as when he’d moved into a place of his own, but she couldn’t bear to lose him completely. She knew it sometimes happened. She’d seen it with her own eyes in other families. She didn’t want it to happen to her.

Claire closed her eyes and drew in a deep breath. She let it out slowly. She hated herself for having these thoughts again. It showed a weakness in character that she despised.

“I’m behaving like an idiot,” she scolded aloud. “I will not cling. I
refuse
to.”

She took another deep breath and pressed the button on the coffee maker to start it brewing. A glance around the kitchen told her everything was in readiness. On the island counter was the silver tray that had belonged to her grandmother. Claire had polished it last night when she couldn’t sleep. Three china dessert plates, three forks, and three cloth napkins in silver rings, along with the china creamer and sugar bowl, were already in place on the tray. Three matching china cups waited near the coffeemaker. All that was left to do was put the coffee cake on the platter. She would wait and do that after her son and Sara arrived.

She was just headed for the living room to watch for their arrival when the phone rang. She hoped it wasn’t Dakota calling to say they weren’t coming.

“Hello?”

“Hi, Claire. It’s Kevin.”

It wasn’t necessary for him to identify himself. She’d know his voice across a million miles of phone line, let alone five hundred. “Kevin. What a nice surprise.” She gripped the receiver with both hands, cradling the mouthpiece with one palm.

“I’m not calling at a bad time, am I?”

“No. Not at all. I’m glad you called. I wanted to thank you for the flowers. They’re lovely.”

There was a moment’s hesitation before he said, “Claire, is everything okay there? Are you okay?”

“Why do you ask?”

“I can’t explain it, but I’ve felt all morning like I’m supposed to be praying for you. I just don’t know why.”

She’d fallen in love with him while in Seattle, despite his words of caution. She’d tried to deny it. She’d tried to pretend she merely thought she
could
learn to love him. But the truth was it had already happened. She loved Kevin.

And now she missed him fiercely. She wanted him to love her in return. But it was obvious that he didn’t want the same. Not yet anyway.

“Claire? Are you still there?”

“Yes. Yes, I’m here.”

“Is
something wrong?”

“No.” A desperate laugh slipped up from her throat, and she was glad she had an excuse to give him. “Except for a bad case of the jitters. I’m due to meet my future daughter-in-law any minute. I guess you’re supposed to pray about that.”

“Then I will.”

Claire listened as he spoke to their Lord with a quiet confidence she both admired and envied.

He finished with “Amen,” and after a moment of silence, he added, “If you need to talk, I hope you’ll call me.”

Do you really want me to?
“Thanks, Kevin. I appreciate it.” She wouldn’t call him, of course. She’d already felt the sting of his rejection once. She couldn’t bear it again. It hurt too much.

“You’ll continue in my prayers.”

And you in mine.

“I’d better let you go. I’m sure you and Sara will hit it off instantly.”

“I’m sure we will too.”

“Bye. Talk to you again soon.”

“Bye, Kevin.”

She replaced the handset in its cradle, shaking her head in futility. Unrequited love might make for great romance in a movie, but in real life it was the pits.