Winter Winds (14 page)

“The people from your church are sitting over there in the corner, and they keep staring at us,” Dori said, self-consciously straightening the collar on her denim shirt.

Trev suddenly felt he should have taken four aspirin. He shrugged. What would have been the use? Even the whole bottle wouldn’t cure what ailed him. “I’m afraid you’ll have to get used to it, sweetheart, being a surprise bride and all.”

Dori frowned, poured two aspirin into her hand, and downed
them with a Coke. He’d forgotten that she drank Coke for breakfast. How she could daily perform such an abhorrent act was beyond him. Coffee strong and hot was the only acceptable breakfast beverage, except for a glass of orange juice, of course. He was certain he’d find the biblical proof to support his beverage position any day now In the meantime, he drank his hot caffeine on faith.

“They seem like nice people,” Dori said hesitantly.

She’d always been inclined to look for the good in people, but they were talking about the Warringtons here.

To lie and pray like crazy that none of the potential problems he feared came to pass, or to tell the truth and burden her with more worries? He sighed. The answer was obvious.

“Beware the man who meets you at the airport,” he said, his back prickling under Jonathan’s relentless gaze. Given time, Trev felt he would look down and see a hole in his middle where the concentrated glare had bored right through him from back to front.

“Beware what man at the airport?” Dori looked confused. “Beware of Phil?”

Trev had to laugh. “That’s not a bad thought, knowing Phil, but it’s not what I meant. It’s an old seminary saying. It means look out for the guy who thinks he runs the church, often the guy who wants first crack at the new candidate or new pastor, so he meets your plane. Such men have their own agendas, and they aren’t always the pastor’s or the church’s.”

“It’s about who has the power?” Dori suggested.

Trev was pleased at her insight. “That’s it in a nutshell. Sometimes these people are mature enough that you can work through your problems and disagreements; sometimes it’s a matter of neither of you being wrong though there will never be agreement, so you separate; and sometimes it’s a matter of a genuine power struggle with all the nastiness that implies.”

“And Mr. Warrington is the last kind of man?”

Trev neck hairs prickled anew, and he squirmed under Jonathan’s continued scrutiny. “I’m afraid so.”

“And my coming has complicated matters for you immensely.” Dori looked troubled.

Trev nodded. “But your going would be even worse.”

Dori swallowed, put her napkin beside her plate, and pushed her chair back. “I realize that.” She stood. “I’m going to the ladies’ room before we leave.”

Trev watched her cross the dining room, his emotions in a giant tangle. He felt as knotted as his fishing line the time Jack decided to tie himself up in it. That he still loved Dori was a given. She had taken his heart years ago, and nothing had changed. He could be happy as a clam spending the rest of his life protecting her, loving her, possessing her. The problem was that she had to allow him to protect her and possess her. He guessed he could continue to love her unilaterally, but where was the joy, the pleasure in unrequited affection?

Oh, Lord, can there be reciprocity in this relationship? Can I win her back? Can I undo whatever it was I did?

Whatever it was he did. He snorted sardonically. He knew what he’d done. He just couldn’t understand why she became angry enough over it to sunder their marriage.

Still, he remembered Dr. Quentin’s advice given during their talks all through his three years at seminary. “Just be careful of that anger if she comes back. It could sink your love boat before you’re even out of port.”

At this point he had no idea whether they were sailing or not, but he vowed to do everything he could to get them out to sea.

Phil had been right about one thing though. She was so much more beautiful now. There was a maturity about her that was riveting. Gone was the bouncy enthusiasm of her youth when she had seemed a perpetual cheerleader. In its place was a grace of movement that drew his eye. Her figure was a woman’s: slim, elegant, appealing. A short, sophisticated, and very becoming haircut replaced the waist-length hair of high school, hair he’d always loved to touch. For years he’d had to satisfy himself with pulling it as he teased her or wrapping it around his hand and yanking just to make her lose her balance. She’d always flown at him in mock fury when he’d done it, and he’d loved the game of holding her off as she made believe she was beating him up.

Then for three glorious days, he’d been able to stroke that beautiful hair, run his fingers through it, feel it fall across his chest as she curled next to him in their bed.

He stood abruptly. That way lay madness and pain.

Dori fell asleep almost as soon as they left the motel, her head resting half on the headrest and half on the car door. She didn’t wake up until they made the turn off the Atlantic City Expressway onto the Garden State Parkway. She sat up with a groan, rubbing the back of her neck.

“Stiff?” Trev asked.

She didn’t reply but bent her neck to both sides, front and back, then rotated it in circles. “Where are we?”

“Almost to Seaside. Our turnoff is just a couple of miles away.”

She looked out the window at the salt marsh they were driving past. Even in the closed car, the distinctive, briny scent of the marsh was obvious. Dori wrinkled her nose. “I’d forgotten how the shore smells here in the East.”

Trev inhaled. “I love the smell. I think one reason is that it always makes me think of my parents and that long-ago vacation. Now it makes me think of home.”

“Home,” Dori echoed, her voice hollow.

Trev’s heart sank. His home, not hers. “I’m sorry, sweetheart.” He stopped to toss his coins in the automatic toll station and left the Parkway. “I know this can’t be any fun for you.”

She merely gave him a sad smile.

In moments they were driving over the Ninth Street Causeway into Seaside. There were few cars and fewer people about, especially when compared to the chaos of this section of town in the summer. Trev drove down Ninth to Asbury where a red light stopped them. He pointed to the close left hand corner.

“That’s Phil’s pharmacy.”

Dori bent and leaned toward Trev to see out his window. “I have a hard time imagining Phil as responsible enough to count out the right number of pills, let alone mature enough to run his own business.”

Trev grunted. “He’s still the jokester he always was, but he’s very good at what he does.”

Dori laughed. “He was so excited when he phoned to tell me he’d bought the store. I asked him where he got the money. ‘Rob a bank?’ I asked. He said he bought it with the bulk of his share of the life insurance he got from his parents.”

“I think they would be pleased.” The light changed and Trev turned down Asbury.

Dori looked at him. “I didn’t know you two were beneficiaries of a policy of that size. No one ever told me anything about it.”

“We didn’t know for years either. Pop kept tabs on the money investing it on our behalf while we were growing up. He always told us Dad had left us money for college, but not that there was more. He got around to telling us when we each reached twenty-three, though the law says he should have told us at twenty-one. By then I was almost finished working my way through seminary, and Phil was working for a chain pharmacy not far from Honey and Pop’s. When I came to the church here, Phil followed, looking for some fun in the sun. It turns out he loves Seaside almost as much as I do, so he settled here.”

As they drove slowly down Asbury, heading south, Trev looked at Dori. They were almost home, and she needed to know what awaited her. He took a deep breath. “I guess I’d better tell you about Jack and Ryan, hadn’t I?”

She looked at him sharply. “Jack and Ryan?”

Trev nodded. “Jack’s my dog—our dog. He’s a black lab. I got him about five years ago.” He didn’t tell her that he’d bought the little black ball of curls with sharp puppy teeth and a loving tongue so that he’d have someone to care for, someone to talk to, someone to be his companion after he lost her. Obviously Jack didn’t replace her, but he had been truer than she, never failing to delight in Trev’s company or to forgive him for all faults.

Dori looked at him. “I remember that you always wanted a big dog, not the little yappy ones that Honey loved. So how big?”

Trev shrugged. “His head comes to my waist.”

Dori’s eyes widened. “Big.”

“But a lover.”

“That’s what they all say as the animal bites your head off. I have a little beige Dandie Dinmont. Trudy I paid way too much for her.” For a minute she looked lost. “If I stay, I guess I’ll have to have her sent.”

Jack and Trudy. There was undoubtedly a pair for the ages. “Is she yappy?”

Dori shook her head. “Rarely barks.”

“That’s what they all say as the shrill sound drives you insane.”

They looked at each other and grinned. Trev’s heart filled with hope at her natural response, but only for a moment. She turned to the passenger window and watched Seaside slide past, withdrawing behind her cool façade.

“So tell me about Ryan.” She almost sounded like she cared. “Is he your cat? Or your guinea pig?”

“Ryan’s a thirteen-year-old boy who’s living with me.”

She turned and stared at him. “You have a teenaged kid living with you?”

Trev was slightly miffed at her total surprise. Had he never been kind before? “Someone had to care for him, and it fell to me. I was glad to do it.” He heard his mock humility and flinched.

“Um,” she said thoughtfully.

They pulled to the curb in front of 112 Heron Lane. He’d bought the place new with a huge chunk of his parents’ insurance money because he knew it was a good investment, even if he was in Seaside only a short time. Already it had risen in value several thousands of dollars in the two years he’d lived here.

“This is where you live?” Dori studied the pale gray house. “Wow. Seaside Chapel must be doing very, very well to have this nice a parsonage or manse or whatever they call it.”

“This isn’t the church’s house,” Trev said. “It’s mine. I own it.”

She nodded and continued to stare. “It’s absolutely beautiful, Trev. Beautiful.”

Trev tried to see the gray house through her eyes. He knew he liked the white porch that ran from the off-center front steps across the left side of the house, and he liked the upper-class feel of the white French doors that opened onto it from the living room. French doors from the master bedroom opened onto a similar porch on the second level. The arch over the front door was repeated in the arched window of the second-floor room he’d made his office.

The lawn was small and winter ugly, but the builder had been only too happy to include excellent plantings across the front at an undoubtedly inflated price. Trev hadn’t cared that he was paying extra at the time because he was anxious to get out of the no-pets-allowed apartment he was staying in and retrieve Jack from Honey
and Pop and their latest little white yappy dog. Jack had been jittery for a good two months after he moved home. He was going to love having Trudy invade his space.

The front door with its oval of etched glass flew open, and Jack surged out with Ryan hanging on to his leash for dear life. Todd followed, slamming the door with a vigor that made Trev flinch for the glass panel.

“I think you’re about to meet the troops.” Trev opened his car door. “Hey, guys,” he called as he stood.

“Pastor Paul! What are you doing back so early?” Ryan let go of Jack’s leash. “Get him, boy!”

Like Jack needed any encouragement. He raced to Trev and lunged, his paws hitting Trev in the chest and knocking him back against the van.

“Get down, you great big horse,” Trev said, laughing. He raised his knee and gently pushed at Jack’s chest. Jack dropped to the ground and stood, panting happily, eyes on Trev. Trev bent and rubbed Jack’s ears and neck. When he stood, the dog leaned happily against his leg.

“So how’d it go last night?” Trev asked Ryan. “You guys have a good time?”

“Great! Mr. Marlowe gave us each a gazillion quarters and took us to the arcade. Then he took us to Mack and Manco’s for pizza.”

Trev, who wasn’t a great fan of arcades because of some of the older kids who hung out there, said with forced cheer, “Sounds great. Did Mr. Marlowe play some games too?”

“He tried,” Todd said. “But we whopped him good!” He and Ryan high-fived.

Trev relaxed. Mr. Marlowe was definitely salt of the earth.

“Hey, Pastor Paul, did you hear that Barry got arrested again last night?” Ryan started to giggle. “He was walking around the parking lot at the Acme with nothing on!” The boy was obviously both impressed and appalled. “What’s with him? I mean, it was below freezing!”

Apparently appalled won the day, a good sign, though the reason wasn’t exactly what Trev would have hoped for. Still, he couldn’t expect moral and spiritual issues to be at the head of a
thirteen-year-old’s reasons for behavior, and he had to admit that the temperature had given him pause too.

Suddenly the boys noticed Dori standing quietly at the front bumper of the van. They looked from her to Trev. Then Ryan leaned forward and whispered, “Who’s she?”

Trev turned to Dori and held out his hand. She came toward him and took it. He felt immense relief. It was going to be hard enough explaining to Ryan why he was sleeping in his office while his “new” bride slept alone in the master bedroom. At least he assumed those would be the sleeping arrangements, given her ice princess demeanor. He threaded his fingers through hers. Holding hands in front of the boy was one normal thing a married couple could be expected to do.

“Ryan—and Todd—I’d like you to meet Dori Trevelyan.”

Ryan looked at Trev in surprise. “I didn’t know you had a sister. I thought you just had Mr. Phil.”

Trev had to smile. “Dori’s not my sister.”

“Though I sort of am,” Dori said, laughter in her eyes.

He gave her hand a tug, drawing her against his side. “Don’t complicate things.”