A Bride at Last (10 page)

An unwelcome weakness pervaded her limbs as she remembered again his gentle touch, his nearness. How tempted she had been to drift against him, to be enfolded against that broad chest, to close her eyes as he’d kissed her.

Nadine allowed herself one moment of fantasy, a few seconds of daydreaming. Then with a short laugh she returned to reality.

She was Nadine Laidlaw. Editor of the
Derwin Times.
She was attaching too much importance to a few moments of sympathy.

She was supposed to be dating Trace Bennet. Had a date with him tomorrow night, in fact.

But for a reason she didn’t want to examine, she hoped he wouldn’t show.

“The job is yours if you want it.” Nadine smiled at the young girl sitting across the desk from her.

Allison Edlinger grinned, leaning forward, her long blond hair slipping over her shoulder. “This is great. Just great. Thanks so much. When can I start?”

“Yesterday?” Nadine joked at Allison’s enthusiasm. There had been six applicants for the job and only two were interview material. Of the two, Allison had the more impressive credentials—three summers’ work for a weekly paper in southern Alberta and two years at another. Nadine had also been impressed by Allison’s clips. “Actually, you can
start as soon as possible. We’ve been just swamped.” Nadine indicated her desk, which was full again in spite of a few long evenings. “If you want, I can show you around today. We’ve got deadline on Monday. Our paper comes out on Tuesday.”

“That’s a little unusual for a weekly,” Allison commented.

“Yes. Most come out on Monday, but our new general manager changed the date so that we didn’t have to work Sunday anymore. At least, not as much.”

Nadine rose and ushered Allison out of her office. They walked to the back of the building where the two typesetters worked at their computers. She poked her head over Wally’s cubicle on the other side of the large, open room, but he was gone. “This is where you’ll be working,” Nadine said, pointing to the cubicle that abutted Wally’s.

They walked past the darkroom and Nadine introduced Allison to Cory, whose office was across the hallway.

“Cory is our ad person. She usually words the ads, helps set them out,” Nadine said, indicating the older woman. They walked past Nadine’s own office, and Donna’s across from hers was also empty. “Empty building today,” Nadine commented as they walked to the reception area. Nadine leaned on the counter. “And this is Sharlene, our receptionist, ad taker, sometimes copy editor…”

“Date with Trace tonight?” quipped Sharlene,
reaching across to rearrange a fold of Nadine’s scarf, which draped across her brown blazer.

“I guess we’ll see. We were supposed to go out a couple of nights ago, but he cried off.”

Nadine pushed away from the desk and walked over to Clint’s office, effectively cutting off conversation with Sharlene. She felt uncomfortable talking about Trace. She had told herself she had dressed up for her date, but she was secretly hoping Clint was around, as well.

Nadine turned and gestured to the door that faced the open foyer. “And this, Allison, is our boss’s office. Thankfully he’s gone for the day, so I’ll just let you have a peek into the inner sanctum.”

Nadine opened the door.

“No, he’s not—” Sharlene interrupted, but she was too late.

Nadine almost jumped at the sight of Clint working at his desk. He looked up and Nadine backed away. “Sorry. I was just showing our new reporter around.” She reached over to close the door, but Clint was getting up from his desk.

“It’s okay.”

“Id-didn’t want to interrupt you,” Nadine stammered, suddenly feeling self-conscious of her skirt, her hair, her makeup. She remembered all too vividly the time spent together at the harvest and the episode in the darkroom.

“It doesn’t matter,” he said, glancing at Nadine, his eyes flicking over her clothes, a smile curving his mouth. “I wouldn’t mind meeting her.”

Of course he wanted to meet a new hire. How dumb of her. Nadine stepped back, taking a breath to compose herself.

Nadine made the introductions, and Clint reached out to shake Allison’s hand. Allison smiled up at him, her blue eyes shining with appreciation. It seemed to Nadine that the light from the front windows caught Allison’s blond hair, making it sparkle. Her dress emphasized her delicate shoulders and skimmed her narrow hips.

“Allison is starting today,” Nadine announced, her voice sounding falsely bright. “She’s originally from Vancouver, but has lived here for a couple of years already.”

Clint glanced at Nadine, acknowledging her comment with a hesitant smile, then looked back at Allison. “Nice to have you with us, Allison. I hope you’ll be working with us for a while.”

Allison fairly simpered, and Nadine resisted the urge to roll her eyes. “I hope so, too,” she said almost coyly.

“We should go back to my office,” Nadine said to Allison. “There’s a few things I want to go over with you—camera allowance, travel, that kind of thing. And then Donna will need you for the payroll forms.”

It looked to Nadine as if Allison had to tear her gaze away from Clint’s. “Sure,” Allison said vaguely. “We can do that.” She hesitated a moment, then followed Nadine back down the hall. When she opened the door to her office, Nadine was
not surprised to see Clint still standing in the doorway of his office, watching them.

Always was partial to blondes, she thought as she closed the door behind Allison.

Nadine walked around her desk and slipped into her chair; pulled an empty pad of paper toward her and found a pen that still wrote. “First I need to get your address and phone number.”

Allison said nothing and Nadine looked up.

“Earth to Allison.”

Allison jumped. “I am so sorry,” she apologized. “I have to confess that I’m still a little surprised.”

“At what?” As if she didn’t know, but politeness dictated that she had to ask.

“At how handsome the boss is.” Allison shook her head as if she was still trying to absorb it. “He’s so good-looking, and what dreamy eyes.”

Nadine stopped, her pen poised over the pad of paper. “He
is
your boss, I’d like to remind you,” she said, her tone more sharp than she had intended.

Allison sighed, then smiled at Nadine. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to sound like some drippy teenager, but I sure never imagined meeting someone like him in a town like this.”

“Well, these unfortunate incidents happen,” replied Nadine dryly. “Now. I’d really like to get on with this.”

Someone rapped abruptly on her door and Cory stuck her head in. “Accident just came in on the scanner. Truck rolled over on the highway.”

“Where’s Wally?”

“Can’t raise him on his cell phone. I’m pretty sure he’s at the opening of the museum.”

Nadine jumped up and grabbed her camera bag, checking it for the necessary supplies. She glanced at Allison. “Well, are you ready for your first assignment?”

Allison looked surprised, then nodded. “Sure.”

“Great.” Nadine looked back up at Cory as she zipped up her bag. “Where are we headed?”

“Secondary highway, 498, north toward Riverview.”

“Leaving now. Any more info on who’s involved?” Nadine asked as Cory stepped quickly aside for her.

“The trucker involved…” Cory hesitated as Nadine headed out the doorway. Nadine stopped and glanced over her shoulder.

“What?”

Cory bit her lip. “He was working for Skyline.”

“I
couldn’t believe how ticked that one guy was when you started taking pictures,” Allison said to Nadine as they returned to the office. “I thought he was going to pull your camera out of your hand.”

“There’s more to that story,” Nadine said grimly, stopping at the darkroom. She was surprised herself at how quickly some of the administrative people from Skyline had come to the scene of the accident. Nadine got some pictures of the paramedics working on the injured truck driver before she was blocked by the workers from Skyline.

“I’m going to have to wait and see what happens to him before we run these pictures, though,” Nadine continued, dropping the canisters on the counter. “We have a standing rule not to print pictures of actual fatalities. If he doesn’t make it, we’re going to have to make an editorial decision as to which pictures we’ll run.”

“I’d say run the ones of the Skyline people trying to block the picture,” Allison said as they walked out of the darkroom, stopping at Nadine’s office.

“Not a bad idea.” Nadine glanced at her watch. “I guess you’ve just put your first day’s work in.” She smiled up at Allison. “Do you have a place to stay for the night, or are you going to go back home?”

Allison shrugged. “I’m staying at a friend’s tonight. She promised she would help me find an apartment if I got the job.”

“Looks like you’ll be hunting.” Nadine let her camera bag drop to the floor. “You’ll be covering a livestock show in Eastbar in the afternoon. I suggest pants.”

Allison looked down at her dress. “We sure looked a pair, rushing out of your car, both of us dressed to the nines.” She glanced at Nadine’s legs. “I don’t know how you managed to keep your hose from running.”

“Me neither,” confessed Nadine. She had discovered that she liked Allison. She was helpful, enthusiastic and a good sport. It hadn’t taken her long to figure out what she needed to do at the accident scene. Her guileless smile and breezy manner had caught a lot of people off guard and they were, therefore, more forthcoming to her than they ever would have been to Nadine. “Just as well. I’m supposed to be going on a date tonight”

Allison frowned. “If you’ll excuse me, you don’t sound too enthusiastic.”

“Probably not,” she admitted.

“I’d ditch him and make a play for the boss,” Allison said with a grin. “I haven’t been here long, but if a guy looked at me like he looks at you, I wouldn’t waste my time on someone I didn’t like.”

“Time out,” Nadine said firmly. “First of all, he’s your boss and
mine
and secondly, Clint Fletcher looks at me like he’d like to fire me but doesn’t know how.”

“Sorry,” Allison said, suddenly contrite. “I didn’t realize you felt that way about him.”

“I don’t feel any ‘way.’ I see him as my employer, and that is the only relationship we have.” And don’t we sound prim, Nadine thought

“I’m sorry. Not exactly a good footing to start out on, is it?”

“No, I’m sorry,” Nadine reassured her, frustrated with her lapse. “I always get uptight after covering an accident.” Nadine glanced at her watch. “Well, I have to do some work yet and you should head out to your friend’s place.” She looked back at Allison and held out her hand. “Thanks again. I think it will be a good article.”

Allison smiled in relief and shook Nadine’s hand. “I hope so. And thanks again for the job.” She tucked her notebook in her purse, turned and walked down the hall, her blond hair swinging with each step.

Nadine watched her go. So Allison thought Clint looked at her a special way. Did he really?

Nadine shook off the thought and went into her
office. Pulling her chair up to her desk, she flipped through a pile of message slips and began answering them.

A while later she had finished up the calls and she turned her computer on, ostensibly to work on a story, but instead she ended up playing a computer game. Entirely appropriate, she thought. Once again, it’s just me and my computer.

With a sigh, she clicked the Close button, jabbed at the power button on the monitor with one finger and the tower with another. The screen flicked off and the fan on the computer died down, leaving the office in total silence.

Trace had told her he would pick her up at five. The last time Nadine had checked her watch, it had been five-thirty. She refused to look at it again.

She lifted her bag onto the desk, shoved some papers into it that she would look over at home and zipped the bag shut, gritting her teeth as she felt the unwelcome and all-too-familiar prickling in her eyes. She had never been the weepy type, but since her mother died, her emotions were so close to the surface. Tonight was nothing to cry over, she castigated herself. Trace isn’t that important to you.

But it seemed that she was crying more and more and she disliked it intensely each time it happened.

Except once, she thought. In the darkroom. When Clint had dried her tears.

Nadine felt her stomach clench at the remembrance of Clint’s hands on her face, his gentle comfort. For a brief moment she allowed herself the luxury
of remembering his touch, the scent of his aftershave, his hovering nearness.

Then with an angry shake of her head she dismissed the memories. He felt sorry for her and had said as much before he dried her tears.

Nadine hefted her bag onto her shoulder and got ready to leave, yet hesitated as she turned the doorknob.

Going home meant Grandma and her unsubtle “I told you so” looks. It would be too humiliating to have Grandma see her come home from another canceled date.

So then what? Another solitary movie in Eastbar had no appeal, and eating alone had even less.

Nadine dropped her bag in frustration and started unbuttoning her blazer. She wouldn’t go out by herself, yet she wanted her grandma out of her house. She wanted to be alone and when she had the chance, she felt lonely.

Wishy-washy. That was what she was, she thought as she hung her blazer over the back of her chair. She was easily pushed around and easily taken in. Trace was a case in point. How many dates had he kept as opposed to the ones he had broken?

Not that it mattered that much, Nadine thought, dropping into her chair. She had felt uncomfortable with Trace from the start. The whole relationship was contrived, almost like an arranged marriage.

Trace wasn’t important to her. She still felt uneasy about him. Something about their relationship
just didn’t seem right. Yet, in a way she was loath to call it off altogether. What would she have then?

And what do you have now? she reminded herself, rocking back in her chair. You’re all alone in this office. You were supposed to go out with him. Nadine blew her breath out in a sigh and pushed her chair away from her desk. She didn’t feel like writing up the Skyline story and didn’t want to go home.

She got up and wandered around the deserted office. Even Clint was gone. The thought made her feel unaccountably lonely.

Each step seemed to drag, each step echoing in the empty building as if mocking her own lonely state.

I’ve tried, Lord,
she prayed, stepping into her small office.
I’ve tried to be happy with what I have. What’s wrong with me?

Wasn’t she supposed to be a liberated woman? Hadn’t she shown that she could compete with a man, could do the same job? Wasn’t that supposed to be enough for a woman these days?

Nadine sat in her chair, letting her head fall backward, her eyes close. Deep down she wanted what her friends had. A husband, children. A home. She wanted to sit in church and frown at fidgeting kids, sing with her husband. She wanted to have windows to sew curtains for, laundry to wash. She wanted a house with an office that she could work out of, part-time. She wanted to hear a door open and close, feel a lift of her heart as her husband came into the house, feel the same sense of completion she had
felt when her own father would come home and fill up the man-space that had been empty since he had left that morning. And she wanted that man to be Clint.

And who did she think she was fooling? she thought, frustrated with where her own thoughts so easily went. She remembered all too well the contrast between her and Allison this morning, how Clint couldn’t seem to keep his eyes off the blonde.

Clint wasn’t for her. Nadine figured she was destined to become one of those old newspaper ladies who ended up heading out to South America doing features on Mayan temples for travel magazines.

Or maybe a dedicated single missionary who would work in faraway mission fields. Then come back and do church tours and slide shows, drumming up support for evangelism in exotic locales far away.

With a wry smile at the mental picture, Nadine bent over, pulled open one of her drawers and found her Bible.

It had been a long time since she had read it at work. In the early days, shortly after her father died and her mother became ill, Nadine kept one Bible at work, one at home. She read both frequently, drinking from the well that never ran dry. She needed God so much then. Needed answers to questions that she couldn’t seem to puzzle out on her own.

Each day had begun with reading and prayer…then.

And now?

Lately she felt events slipping out of her reach, deadlines always looming. They had been shorthanded too long and it had drained her.

The sorrow she felt at her mother’s death was still too fresh, and her guilt over being unable to find more about her father’s death still haunted her.

Nadine pressed her hand against her chest as if to keep the sorrow contained. She pulled the Bible out of the drawer and laid it on her desk.

She drew in a deep breath, then another. God had answered her scattered prayers about her father. God had been faithful. The phone call yesterday was confirmation to her that she was given another chance.

Nadine opened the Bible, leafing through the worn book, margins marked with notations from various Bible studies. Almost lazily she flipped through pages. “Grazing,” her mother used to call it almost contemptuously. Brenda, in true accordance with her own strict upbringing, had insisted that the Bible be read from front to back.

It was thanks to this disciplined reading that Nadine had worked her way a number of times through the entire Bible. She had learned to appreciate the sorrows of the prophets watching their people turn away from God, to lament with them at the hardness of hearts.

But when her own heart was sore, when her own anger seemed to overwhelm her, she found herself turning to either the Psalms or the letters Paul wrote in the New Testament. It was there she found comfort
for her anguish, balm for her sorrow and reminders to forgive.

But tonight she felt like lamenting, and turned to Isaiah.

She flipped through the chapters, reading imprecations of woe to those who turned away and yet finding at the same time the promises that Isaiah gave of the comforter.

Isaiah 55.

Nadine stopped, carefully running her fingers along the familiar lines. “Come all who are thirsty, come to the waters…. Why spend money on what is not bread and your labor on what does not satisfy?…Seek the Lord while He may be found…. You will go out with joy and be led forth with peace.” As she read, the words slowly wound themselves around her worn and weary heart and she laid the book open on her desktop, hunching over it much as a cold person would over a glowing fire. Drawing in a slow breath, she read on, reading warnings and comfort and promises.

After reading for a while, Nadine bent her head in prayer, asking for wisdom and discernment and strength. She knew she didn’t have to count on the men of the world for her happiness. God would give her what she needed.

Encouraged, Nadine slowly closed the Bible and placed it on one corner of her desk, ready for tomorrow.

Smiling lightly, she pulled her blazer off the back of her chair and slipped it on. With her scarf draped
around her neck, she was ready to walk out of the office when the phone rang.

For a moment she was tempted to let it ring, but her innate curiosity led her back to her desk to answer it.

Trace was full of apologies and promises to come over right away, but Nadine cut him off. “Doesn’t matter, Trace. It’s over.” As she spoke the words she felt a momentary shaft of panic. Was she crazy? Was she deliberately trying to sabotage any chance she would have at a life’s partner?

But as she heard his protests, listened to his excuses, she realized that the longer she allowed the relationship to go on the worse it would get. Trace simply wasn’t reliable, wasn’t the kind of man she wanted for herself.

“No. I’ve thought it over,” she interrupted. “You’re just too busy and I don’t like being stood up.”

“Nadine, don’t do this. Tonight was a blip, unexpected.”

“Like your visit with your banker?” Nadine put heavy emphasis on the last word as if to tell him that she didn’t believe his excuse of the other day, either.

“Her name is Margaret Toornstra. Give her a call.” Nadine heard him take a breath, then another as if he was running. “Please, don’t do this, Nadine. I’m begging you.”

Nadine had heard his begging before and found it a little embarrassing. But she knew she had to end
it. If she was to have a meaningful relationship, she wanted it with someone dependable and trustworthy.

If she was to have a relationship. She closed her eyes as the words taunted and echoed in her mind. She knew she had to trust. Being married wasn’t everything. She had a challenging job and lived in a good place. She had her faith and her church community. As lonely as she sometimes felt, she wasn’t desperate enough to settle for a man who showed her such little respect. She respected herself far too much for that.

She listened to more of his protests, his promises, waiting for a suitable time to end the conversation. It was a relief when she could finally say, “Goodbye, Trace,” and hang up the phone.

As she did so, she shook her head. For a brief moment she felt a pang of sorrow, but then, behind that, a feeling of empowerment. She, plain ordinary Nadine Laidlaw, single woman of twenty-seven, had broken up with a very handsome, eligible man. She had made the choice, no one else.