A Trusting Heart Read online

  Claire couldn’t help smiling at his remarks. He had a funny way of telling stories and a casual easiness about him that was beginning to make her feel comfortable in his presence.

  “Thank you,” she said to the waiter as he deposited the glass of tea beside her dinner plate. “And thank you for ordering it,” she said, looking over at Jake.

  “You’re quite welcome. I’ll just have to make sure he puts it on your bill and not mine,” he answered with a chuckle.

  “I’ll double-check, to be sure,” she countered, opening a packet of artificial sweetener and dumping it into the glass.

  “Sure you wouldn’t rather have some sugar instead of the imitation stuff? Didn’t Congress ban that because it causes cancer in rats? It can’t possibly be good for you if it’s killing off rats,” Jake cautioned, offering her the sugar. “I’d hate to see you become a casualty,” he continued, giving her a teasing grin.

  “I’ll wait until they prove something a little more definite,” Claire replied, returning his smile while ignoring the sugar.

  “Roger wants to know if you two would like to go over to the Abbotts’ house after dinner. They’re having a welcome home party,” Gloria whispered to Claire.

  “Not me,” Claire replied. “You can ask Jake to go along, but I’m afraid that might turn into something that doesn’t interest me. Don’t you remember the last party you attended at the Abbotts’?” Claire continued, keeping her voice low enough that the others couldn’t hear their conversation.

  “I’m driving tonight, so I don’t have to worry. If they start drinking, I can leave,” Gloria retorted.

  “Suit yourself, but I’m not going,” Claire firmly replied.

  “What’s the big secret?” Jake inquired.

  “Roger was wondering if you and Claire wanted to go to a party at the Abbotts’ house after dinner,” Gloria said, obviously intending to ignore Claire’s refusal.

  “Doesn’t sound appealing to me. I never have liked those ‘home’ parties the wives throw when their husbands get back from training. Besides, I think I’ll call it an early night,” he said while rising from his chair. “Anyone else ready to try out the buffet?”

  “I am. You and Roger coming?” Claire asked Gloria, while giving her a smug grin. “Didn’t work, did it?” she whispered in Gloria’s ear just as they reached the buffet line.

  “If you’re not interested in going to the Abbotts’, how about going back over to Claire’s house for coffee when we leave?” Gloria asked Jake as he was helping himself to a generous serving of potatoes and gravy.

  “Sure—that would be okay,” he replied, continuing down the buffet line.

  Feigning an inability to decide upon an entree, Claire waited until Jake was a short distance away. “Just what do you thing you’re doing, Gloria?” she asked through clenched teeth.

  “Giving you and Jake an opportunity to get to know each other. You seem determined to get away from him as soon as possible, so I thought I’d better get things turned in the right direction. If you don’t want to go to the Abbotts’ party—then it’s coffee and conversation at your house!”

  It wasn’t often that Gloria got the best of her friend, and had Claire listened to her instincts, it wouldn’t have happened tonight. Now Gloria had pushed her into the position of either treating Jake as rudely as she had earlier or taking them all home and entertaining. Neither idea appealed to her, and she silently vowed that next Friday night would find her curled up on the couch with a good book.

  “You want to ride with me?” Jake asked as the four of them walked to the parking lot outside the restaurant.

  “Go ahead, Claire. Roger doesn’t have his car, so he’s riding with me,” Gloria instructed with a smug smile of her own.

  Claire acted as though she hadn’t noticed. “We’ll follow you,” Claire replied, allowing Jake to escort her toward his car. Lowering herself inside, she seated herself and leaned across to unlock the door of the small sports car.

  “What is this thing, anyway? I feel like I’m sitting on the ground,” Claire asked as Jake turned the ignition key and revved the motor.

  “It’s a Datsun. I bought it right after I got back from Germany. Nothing I love more than a sports car. As to sitting on the ground, you eventually get used to it,” he replied. Pulling out of the parking lot behind Gloria, he adroitly shifted through the gears as they moved onto the highway. “I had a pretty little blue Ford Capri while I was stationed in Germany, but I sold it right before I came back to the States. I sure miss driving on the autobahn—ever been to Europe?”

  “No, I’m afraid I haven’t made it east of Philadelphia or west of Denver,” she replied, watching his obvious enjoyment as he wove through traffic.

  “Bet you’d love it—course there’s no place like the United States, but it’s fun traveling overseas. At least in peace time,” he added.

  “From that remark, I’d guess you’ve been to Vietnam.”

  “Yep. Made somebody’s list for those tours, too.”

  “You went more than once?” she asked, surprised by his answer.

  “I had the undeniable pleasure of three tours, although Uncle Sam designated those assignments pretty carefully. There were actually regulations prohibiting three tours, so instead of a full tour, they sent me on temporary duty assignment the third time. I had to stay for only nine months instead of eleven,” he said, shaking his head and giving a small laugh.

  “Didn’t you ever question your orders? I mean, why you had to go three times and others didn’t have to go at all?”

  “Nope! It’s part of the job. I knew when I made the Army a career that combat was part of the deal. Course I didn’t realize coming back into the United States would be like entering another war zone. I think that part was harder than all the time I spent in Vietnam.”

  “I don’t envy you,” she replied, knowing that many of the returning soldiers had suffered severely while in Vietnam, as well as being treated disgracefully by American citizens when they returned to the States.

  He grew silent and stared straight ahead as though deep in thought. “Well, that’s enough of that! I don’t want to throw you into total depression,” he said, smiling. “By the way, how come we’re following Gloria to your house? Afraid you’d forget your way home?” he asked, giving her a knowing grin.

  “I wasn’t sure Gloria would show up. I know she wants to go to that party. . .”

  “And you wanted to be sure you didn’t end up with a stranger camped on your front doorstep,” he said, completing her statement.

  “Something like that,” she honestly replied. “Are you offended?” she inquired, though not sure that his answer really mattered.

  “Nah. It takes more than that to insult me!”

  TWO

  Racing in the front door, Claire dropped the two bags of groceries on the kitchen table and grabbed the phone.

  “Hello,” she answered in a breathless voice.

  “Been out jogging?” asked the voice at the other end of the line.

  “Who is this?”

  “Jake! Jake Lindsey—we had dinner last Friday night, and I came to your house for coffee afterward. Ring any bells?”

  “How did you get my phone number? It’s unlisted,” Claire abruptly replied.

  “Gloria came to the rescue. Now that is one girl I wouldn’t want for an enemy—look what she does for her friends,” he said, laughing at his own joke.

  “Listen, I just got in from shopping, and I need to get these groceries put away before they defrost all over the table. I’ll talk to you some other time,” she stated, calling an abrupt halt to his bantering.

  “Whoa! Hold on a minute. I wondered if you’d like to do something this weekend. I’ve tried to call several times this week, but you’re a hard lady to find at home.”

  “No, thanks. I’m going to be busy. I’ve really got to go,” she responded and promptly hung up the phone without saying good-bye.

  Approximately thirty mi
nutes later, the ringing telephone summoned Claire from the relaxing bubble bath she’d been promising herself all week. She was tempted to let it ring, but the thought that it might be a call about her daughter, Michelle, caused her to veto that idea. Rising out of the sudsy, herbal-scented water, she wrapped herself in a huge terrycloth robe, slid her wet feet into a pair of blue thongs, and padded across the pale gold bedroom carpet.

  “Hello,” she answered in a voice filled with more irritation than she’d intended.

  “Still unloading the groceries?”

  “Oh, for goodness sake. It’s you again.”

  “You sure know how to overwhelm a guy with your enthusiasm. If I didn’t know better, I’d think that you were irritated that I called back,” he replied.

  “I already told you I’m busy this weekend, and your call forced me out of the bathtub. So, to be perfectly honest with you, I am irritated you called back,” she stated.

  “Tell you what—I’ll let you get back to that bath. You just tell me a good time to call, and that will solve my interruptions,” he suggested.

  “There’s no reason to call back. I’ve already said all there is to say.”

  “I thought we had quite a bit to talk about last Friday night. I really would like to get to know you better—absolutely no strings attached. Like I told you, I’m not interested in any commitments either,” he continued, obviously not willing to hang up.

  “Half an hour,” she answered and slammed down the phone. “The water’s already cold,” she muttered under her breath as she turned on the hot water faucet and stepped back into the tub.

  “Hello,” Claire dispassionately answered when the telephone rang exactly one half-hour later.

  “I hope I’m not taking you away from anything important this time,” Jake replied.

  “Nothing but writing checks, washing dishes, and general housecleaning.”

  “You should be thanking me for calling. Look at what I’ve saved you from,” he jokingly responded.

  There was a deafening silence at the other end of the line.

  “You still there?” he asked.

  “Jake, you called me. What is it you wanted to talk about?”

  “Everything. Nothing. I just wanted to talk to you. Are you sure you couldn’t squeeze in a little time this weekend?”

  “I’m afraid not. I’ve got a bizillion things to do.”

  “Couldn’t I do some of them with you? Help out or something?” he asked.

  “I don’t think they’d appeal to you.”

  “Well, just try me,” he encouraged her. “What are you doing on Saturday?”

  “Mowing the yard and planting some flowers in front of the house. If I’m lucky, I’ll also get a few tomato plants and green onions in the ground. Sound like anything you’re interested in?” she asked with a hint of sarcasm in her voice.

  “Do you serve breakfast?”

  “Only after the work’s done,” she stated, surprised at his question.

  “What time should I be there, and do you want me to pick up the tomato plants?”

  “Are you serious?” she asked, realizing that he wasn’t going to be put off.

  “Sure, I’m serious. I’ll see you at eight o’clock Saturday morning. You buying the tomatoes, or am I?”

  “I’ll buy the tomatoes,” she answered.

  “Good enough. Don’t forget about breakfast! See you on Saturday,” he said with a lilt in his voice and then hung up the phone.

  Claire stood staring at the receiver, stunned at how easily he had manipulated himself into her weekend.

  ❧

  Jake arrived at eight o’clock on Saturday morning dressed in a pair of jeans, a faded olive drab T-shirt, and a pair of old combat boots.

  Claire couldn’t help grinning when she looked at his feet. “Combat boots to mow the yard? Around here, most of us do yard work in tennis shoes.”

  “I had a friend that lost a couple toes one summer when he was mowing the grass. He was barefooted. Ever since then, I’ve worn boots when I mow the yard. Laugh if you want, but I’d rather have warm feet than take a chance losing my toes,” he replied seriously.

  “I’m sorry. . .” she began.

  “No need to be. I’ve still got all my toes,” he joked, obviously realizing that his response made her feel uncomfortable. “Tell me where the mower is, and I’ll get started.”

  It was eleven o’clock by the time they were in the kitchen, eating scrambled eggs and toasted English muffins.

  “This is great,” Jake complimented as Claire poured him a second cup of strong Colombian coffee.

  “I’d say it’s the least I could do after a morning of hard work. It would have taken me a couple more hours without your help.”

  “That works out well for me then, doesn’t it?”

  “Why is that?” Claire questioned.

  “It gives you a couple hours to spend with me,” he said, giving her a wink.

  “I really do have plans for this afternoon, Jake,” she replied.

  “I’ll bet I could help out if you’d let me.”

  “It’s really nothing I need help with. I’m going to spend the afternoon with my daughter.”

  “I didn’t know you had any kids,” he stated, a question evident in his eyes.

  “Didn’t Roger tell you I’m a widow?” she asked.

  “Yes. He said your husband died a couple years ago, but he didn’t say you had kids.”

  “I don’t have kids. I have one daughter. Her name is Michelle,” she told him.

  “How old is she?”

  “Twelve.”

  “Twelve? Is she living with her grandparents or something?” he asked, obviously confused.

  “No. She’s profoundly retarded and lives in a group home with two other girls who are equally disabled.”

  “Who takes care of them?” he inquired.

  “They attend day classes at a school for the developmentally disabled during the day and return back to their house in the evening. They’re cared for by professional staff around the clock,” she answered, wishing that the conversation would take a different course.

  “So where’s this group home located?”

  “It’s about thirty miles east of here. I dislike the distance, but professional help for Michelle was my most important consideration. It was probably the hardest decision I ever had to make,” she quietly remarked. Why did I tell him that? she immediately thought to herself, angry that she’d divulged something so private to a stranger.

  “I can’t even begin to imagine,” he replied in a somber voice.

  “Well, I think I’d better get these dishes cleared away and start getting ready to leave town,” she said, forcing herself to sound cheerful.

  “How about if I tag along?” he requested.

  “I don’t think so. But I do appreciate all your help this morning,” she added.

  “I’d be glad to do the driving,” he cajoled, giving her an engaging grin.

  “Please don’t push me on this issue, Jake. If there’s anything in this world I’m decisive about, it’s issues regarding Michelle.”

  “I think I believe you,” he said, obviously noting the determined set of her jaw. “Could I at least get an okay to call you tomorrow? How about brunch or the zoo? I love zoos—or we could go see the buffalo at Fort Riley. What do you say?”

  “I go to church on Sunday mornings, and I told Gloria I’d give her a call tomorrow afternoon. We had tentatively planned to do some shopping,” she replied.

  “I’ll give Gloria a call while you’re gone this afternoon and see if she’d mind giving up her shopping trip,” he ventured.

  “How about church, Jake? Do you attend anywhere?” she asked.

  “No, you know what with moving around and all, I never got into that. My folks sent me on Sunday mornings when I was little—I think so they could sleep in and I wouldn’t bother them,” he said, laughing nervously at his last remark.

  “Do you move more oft
en than most of the soldiers stationed out here?” she asked.

  “Well, probably not. I seem to go TDY—that’s temporary duty assignment—quite a bit, but I’ve been attached to Fort Riley for three years now,” he responded.

  “Seems like plenty of time to find a church home. We have quite a few military families in our church. They add so much to the congregation. Most of them have belonged to lots of churches and bring fresh ideas and new blood into the membership. Personally, I think they keep us from getting stale. Course, I always hate to see them leave on new assignments, but it seems just about the time one couple is ready to leave, one or two more arrive. You might even know some of them,” she stated, with a note of encouragement in her voice.

  “So are you inviting me to church tomorrow morning?” he asked, sounding somewhat hesitant.

  “Certainly. But, please don’t view going to church as a date, okay? I invite lots of people to church, and I sincerely hope that everyone I ask will show up the following Sunday morning,” she explained. “It’s the Maranatha Fellowship at the corner of Madison and Countryside. Do you know where that is?”

  “After three years in this town, I think I know where that is,” he replied with a smile. “What time does it begin?”

  “Ten-thirty. I’ll meet you out front,” she responded.

  “Why don’t I just stop by for you? No sense in taking two cars.”

  “I’ll be going earlier. I meet with a prayer group before the ten-thirty service,” she explained. “Besides, I may need to stay afterward. It’ll be easier if I have my car.”

  “Will you be able to go out to lunch afterwards? We could take a picnic to the zoo,” he offered doggedly.

  “I’m afraid not. I hate to seem rude, but I really need to get ready to leave,” she said, hoping he would take the hint.

  Claire walked him to the back door and watched as he walked toward his car. “I’ll wait out front in case you decide to come in the morning,” she called after him.

  He waved his arm in the air with car keys dangling from his hand, but he didn’t respond.

  ❧

  The thirty-mile ride to Michelle’s group home gave Claire time to think. It had been a week since her last visit. Sometimes there was an evening when she could manage to squeeze in the trip, but last week there hadn’t been. Unfortunately, she always suffered from a gnawing guilt when something occurred to interrupt those regular trips. Not that the staff at the home made her feel guilty—it was merely Claire and her obsession with being a perfect parent to her daughter.