In His Dreams (14 page)

Bonnie reached over to pull off her top, and Marsha was startled for a moment until she realized that Bonnie had worn the bathing suit underneath her clothes. “I’m smart, Daddy said.”

“You are.” She stood and picked up Bonnie’s clothes from the deck floor, then looked at Jeff. “Go ahead down, and I’ll be there in a minute. I have to get another chair.”

Jeff lifted a chair into the air. “I brought one from the back.”

He’d brought one for her. Her heart lifted. She managed a grin, then called to Barb where they’d be and followed him down to the beach, but, as her heel dug into the sand, her grin faded to worry. Would this be the Dear Jane letter that she’d begun to consider?

Realizing she had been the master of ambivalence, Marsha couldn’t blame Jeff, but she wanted more. Time? Assurance from God? She didn’t know what she wanted, but she knew that Jeff had filled a hole inside her, and she didn’t want to be empty again.

Jeff opened the chair and flagged her to take whichever seat she preferred. She sat on the beach chair, leaving the recliner for him. Being edgy, she didn’t feel in the mood to lean back and apparently he didn’t, either. He sat on the edge of the recliner and faced her.

She looked at Bonnie splashing in the water and waited for him to say what was on his mind, but he only looked at her.

“First, I know I’ve done something to upset you, and I want to apologize. I was talking with Barb after you left for the haircuts, and I mentioned how you’d said her novel was pretty good. I could tell she was upset. Apparently, she didn’t know you’d seen it.”

Marsha nodded. “She told me what you’d said.”

“I’m really sorry. I had no idea. I was trying to compliment her. I realize that’s what’s upset you.”

Marsha’s heart sank. She wanted to scream “It’s your lack of faith, Jeff,” but she couldn’t. If he really wanted to take their friendship to another level, he might pretend to believe or it might force him to church for her. That was not what she wanted. She wanted him to go to church for his relationship with God. She could only pray.

“It’s okay, Jeff. I didn’t ask you not to say anything. I shouldn’t have been looking at her story without her permission. You know me. I bungle into things that I don’t have the right to.”

“You’re doing better.” He gave her a frail grin.

“Thanks. I’m really trying to watch myself. And I’ve been praying about it.”

“Tell God thanks for me, would you?”

Tell Him yourself. It was that attitude she couldn’t live with. She let the thought slip away and, instead, prayed that one day he would tell the Lord thank you on his own.

Silence hung between them, and her gaze drifted to the water again where she spotted Bonnie dog-paddling. She wanted to be a good swimmer so badly, but Marsha hoped she wouldn’t go too far out into the water without one of them in with her.

“Be careful, Bon,” Jeff called as if reading her mind.

She watched his shoulders raise as he drew in a breath, then he turned back to her.

“Barb mentioned something that has me concerned.”

“Barb?” She tried to imagine what her sister had said.

“She talked to me about predators and, now that I look at Bonnie with the haircut and the new clothes, it just smacked me between the eyes. Why have I been so unaware?”

Predators? Barb had told him. Her heart softened at the desperate look on his face. “You’re Bonnie’s daddy. You don’t think of her as reaching womanhood. She’s still your little girl.”

He shook his head. “Yes, but, if I opened my eyes, there’s reality staring me in the face—too obvious for me to miss.”

His focus shifted to the water, and Marsha’s followed, seeing Bonnie bob up and down as each wave rolled in. “I know.”

“And that’s what you’ve been saying. But predators? She’s disabled. Am I stupid?” He slapped his hand against his jaw and shook his head. “Yet, I read the paper. I hear about people doing things to little children, doing things to people with handicaps. I just didn’t want to believe it.”

“Neither did I.” She plucked at a loose thread on the chair. “Barb talked to me a while ago, and I was so tied up in wanting her to act and look like a teenager that I missed the whole idea, myself.” She leaned forward and grasped his hands. “We have to give this to the Lord, Jeff.”

As the words left her mouth, she drew back, realizing she could lay it at Jesus’ feet, but he couldn’t. That was what God’s Word meant. How could they work together from such different points of view?

He nodded and didn’t rebuff her comment. Her heart skipped, wondering if he’d heard her. Her plea went heavenward again for the Holy Spirit to intervene.

“I have to be more careful,” Jeff said, “and I can’t be so trusting.” He motioned down the beach. “Like that neighbor of mine. He might have been perfectly innocent, just trying to compliment a child he knew had a disability, but maybe not. How do I know?”

“You don’t, but you can’t be wary of everyone. Just use good sense.” She wanted to support him, but, mostly, she wanted to talk about them. She wanted to have her concern fade away. She wanted to be in his strong arms. For now, she found her refuge in the Lord.

Jeff released a ragged sigh, and his gaze shifted to Bonnie. Finally, he looked down at his feet and pushed the sole of his shoe into the sand. “Footprints in the sand.” He lifted his gaze. “Right now I want to see only one set.”

Marsha’s heart lifted to the sky. Was this a beginning?
Thank you, Lord.
She couldn’t speak for the emotion that filled her.

Jeff nodded toward the water, and Marsha saw Bonnie heading back in their direction. “I suppose we better drop the subject before Miss Nosey hears something.” He leaned closer with a whisper. “I’m seeing a little jealousy in her. Have you noticed?”

Marsha shook her head. “Only a little, and that’s natural. She’s daddy’s little girl.” The words took her back. “I was daddy’s little girl even when I was in my twenties. It’s not age.”

“Did you see me?” Water dripped from Bonnie when she reached them. “Come out and swim.”

“Not today. We have company coming this weekend, and I have lots to do.” He tousled her wet hair. “
We
have lots to do. We have to clean the guest rooms.”

“Yuck,” she said.

“Don’t you want company?”

She shrugged. “Can Aunt Marsha come over on Sunday when they come over?”

Marsha shook her head. “Your daddy needs time to visit with his friend. Anyway, I have to go to church and take care of some things around here.”

“I have to go to church, too,” Bonnie said.

“Not this Sunday,” Marsha said. “You have to be home for the company.”

Jeff shook his head. “They won’t be here until later in the afternoon. She can go if she wants.”

“Are you sure?”

“Positive.” He rose and held out his hand to help her rise and, once she was up, he grabbed the chair. “It’s time I get busy.”

Marsha should have been happy that he’d agreed for Bonnie to go to church, but she’d so longed to hear him say he would join them. She hated the distance between them. Instead of keeping things status quo, she felt as if they’d tumbled down a hill in opposite directions. The closeness she loved had vanished.

Jeff looked out the window and, as soon as Marsha pulled up, he called Bonnie. He opened the door and gave a wave. Bonnie had chosen her new skirt for church, and Jeff eyed his daughter again, still amazed at the new haircut and up-to-date clothing style.

Before Marsha came to the door, he walked outside with Bonnie. He’d made a decision during the night and, this morning, though uneasy, he forced himself to follow through.

“Good morning,” he said, leaning through the passenger window. “Where’s Barb?

“Not feeling well this morning.”

“Too bad,” he said, opening the passenger door while Bonnie slipped between him and the car.

“You look so nice,” Marsha said, motioning to Bonnie’s new outfit.

She grinned and started to climb into the front seat, but Jeff stopped her. “Let’s put you in the back, Bon. I’m going with you.”

Marsha’s smile morphed to wide-eyed surprise. “You are?”

He slipped into the seat and closed the door. “I figured I should be a good example for my daughter.”

“That’s right, Daddy,” Bonnie said from the back. “Parents have to be good examples.”

Marsha’s mouth had closed, yet she still had that deer-in-the-headlights look on her face.

“Since I’m going with you, I could drive if you’d prefer,” Jeff said, wondering if he needed to flag his hand in front of her eyes to get her attention.

“No, this is fine,” she said finally, backing from the driveway, then heading back toward town.

He really should have picked her up, but the decision to go with them had wavered in his head until she’d arrived. The closer they came to the church, the more his muscles knotted. Before he’d gone to bed, he’d read more of First Peter and, once again, the message had smacked him between the eyes. He couldn’t remember the exact words, but the ideas clung in his thoughts. Be self-controlled; set your hope fully on the grace of Jesus. Grace? What was grace? Mercy? Pardon? A reprieve?
My grace is sufficient for you, for My power is made perfect in weakness.
He’d quoted a verse. Where had that come from?

“Thinking?”

Marsha’s voice jarred him out of his thoughts. “I guess.” He knew, but how could he tell her the words that had rattled him. God’s power could be used in his weakness. That was grace. God could forgive and show His love to the sinner.
Grace.
The word washed over him.

“You know, I’m really happy you decided to come.”

“Don’t expect much. I’m here for Bonnie.” The words left his mouth, and he immediately asked himself why he said something so ridiculous. He’d just thought those powerful words and now he’d ridiculed them. He’d only succeeded to hurt Marsha. Faith meant so much to her, and he saw the results of her faith in the way she lived.

“I shouldn’t have said that. I’m going to church for me, too,” he admitted.

She glanced at him, her expression filled with confusion. Then, her jaw relaxed and she turned her attention to the road.

At Back Road, she made a left and, in a short distance, she pulled into the church parking lot. “I guess this is it.” His voice sounded like a scared man sitting in the first seat of a roller coaster.

Marsha didn’t say a word. She opened the driver-side door and climbed out, then stood in front of the car waiting for him and Bonnie to unlatch their belts and join her. She hit the remote followed by the soft beep as the doors locked.

They entered the center door into the wide foyer with the sanctuary on the right and the fellowship hall on the left. Marsha guided Bonnie to the Sunday-school room, and he stood waiting, his body twitching with nerves.

When she returned, his hand trembled as he grasped Marsha’s elbow and walked beside her down the aisle. The morning sun sent shimmers of color from the stained-glass windows—the Paschal Lamb, all kinds of biblical scenes showing stories he remembered so well—and it took him back to times with Marilou when they’d gone to church with such high hopes.

But that was the past, and today he also had new hopes. Hopes to get his life back together, to be a better father for Bonnie, to…to what? To be with Marsha. She’d asked him to be patient. Patient, for what? If she was that indecisive about their relationship, maybe it was hopeless.

Marsha had already become part of his life, and he couldn’t imagine what it would be like if he returned home and they drifted apart again.

Marsha shifted into a pew, and he followed. He tried to concentrate, but he kept returning to Marsha.

He couldn’t remember when the distance between them had happened. They’d been so close during Don’s illness, and, after his funeral, he’d still called and dropped by. Marilou had invited her to dinner a few times, but she’d seemed uneasy, like the proverbial third wheel. He hadn’t known how to make it better.

Things had changed when Marilou had died. He’d decided to die with her. Yes, he’d kept going—work, chores, Bonnie. But life, real life, had vanished and he’d wallowed in his own grief. Then grief had turned to bitterness and anger. Lately, he’d realized that wasn’t the way to live.

The verses he’d read in 1 Peter 2 that dealt with suffering stuck in his mind like the clutch of his first 1977 junker. The verses wouldn’t leave him. They asked what kind of credit should a person get if he received punishment for doing something wrong. But, if the person suffered for doing good and he withstood the punishment, then God looked favorably on him. He’d read further and the Bible said this was an example for everyone to follow just as Christ had suffered for the world.

If God had expected him to earn credit for tolerating sorrow, Jeff knew he’d failed. He hadn’t earned one iota of credit. He’d fallen so short he couldn’t imagine how God could forgive him. Yet he knew the Bible said, over and over, people are forgiven by the blood of Jesus. Why couldn’t he accept that and stop fighting the truth he knew in his heart?

Jeff sensed Marsha looking at him. He turned toward her and managed a grin.