The Guardian

“Something to keep you occupied.”

  It was heavy, and she would have thought it was a book except the package gave and she had to grasp it with both hands to steady it. She set it in her lap and opened the package. “What’s this?”

  Marcus just looked at her, a slight smile edging up the corners of his mouth. “What’s it look like?”

  It was well over a ream of loose pages. The top page simply said Paula—centered, on the middle of the page. It took her a moment to realize she was holding an H. Q. Victor manuscript. It was . . . she checked . . . 728 pages.

  “Her next book. I asked Quinn to bring it back with him. It should keep you busy for a few days,” he said, satisfied.

  She caught his hand when he would have stepped back. “Marcus. Thank you,” she whispered.

  “My pleasure.”

  * * *

  Most of the party banners and streamers had been cleaned up, the party was over. Marcus made his final rounds for the night, then passed off security to Craig. The lights were still on in the den. He had wondered if Shari would turn in early, given how long her day had been. He leaned against the doorpost, delighted to find she had waited up for him.

  She was reading the manuscript. She was slouched in the seat with the manuscript in her lap, turning pages with one hand and eating a carrot with the other. He was willing to bet she had been seated just like that for the last several hours. The bag of vegetables left over from this afternoon’s tray was almost gone, and about a hundred pages of the manuscript had been set down in a semi-neat pile on the floor. There was an absorbed expression on her face as she read.

  “Is it any good?”

  “What?”

  He moved into the room. “The story. Is it good?”

  She stretched her arms back over her head, arched her back, and smiled. “One of her best.”

  “Am I going to interrupt if I join you?”

  “No, but I’m tossing you out if you yawn so I can keep reading,” she replied with a small laugh. She set the manuscript down beside the chair.

  He settled down on the couch. “Thanks for being a good sport today. I’m afraid once the planning started, it got out of hand.”

  “Mom told me you instigated the food.”

  “Guilty. I enjoy the leftovers.”

  “Thank you for arranging it. I didn’t want to celebrate without Dad, and that would have made the day drag by. With the celebration, the day flew by and it was much easier to handle.”

  “It’s hard to feel sad when Josh is tossing peanut shells at you for flubbing a joke.”

  “Yeah.”

  He saw a look of private amusement cross her face. One he had seen in his own family. “What?”

  “I short-sheeted his bed.”

  “You know if you start going tit for tat, it’s going to escalate on you fast. There’s plenty of time while you are stuck here to dream up the practical jokes.”

  “I know. And I’m going to enjoy it.” Her amusement changed to seriousness. “What do you want to talk about tonight?”

  He had thought about that a great deal throughout the afternoon, and he chose to offer a serious, difficult topic, one he knew they needed to talk about. He had made the decision he wanted a lot more with her than just a friendship, and it was going to mean facing some topics that were going to be difficult for both of them. He was a cautious man when it came to introducing something that would hurt a friend, and he knew the risks. He brought up the subject of religion as an indirect observation. “Jennifer is going to want to talk about what she believes.”

  “Very likely.”

  “Shari, she’s praying to be healed, and instead she’s having to face growing worse. I don’t understand, and I don’t want to say the wrong thing.”

  Her posture straightened, and her focus narrowed. “Do you really want to know what I’ve discovered about prayer?”

  There was a frank challenge to her words. She didn’t think he was going to like her answer. “Yes, Shari, I do.”

  “To be passive and throw up your hands and say, ‘I don’t care, whatever You want, Lord,’ is as much a cop-out as pushing for only what you want and not being able or willing to accept something different. To deny Him being Lord.” She looked across at him moodily. “It hurts to have prayers not answered. The difference is I still believe in the One to whom I pray, whereas you simply stopped praying.”

  Her warning had been with cause. It was the first time she had shown him the emotion behind what she thought of his disbelief. She didn’t temper it, and he had to admit, hearing it stung. It pricked where he was vulnerable, being called a coward.

  “We put everything we are into our prayers. What we think about Jesus. What’s happening in the world around us. What our dreams are about how life should be. Our sense of hope. Prayer is the ultimate struggle. It can be exquisite joy, and it can also be painful tears.

  “I don’t want to belittle the pain you felt over what happened to your mom. But you decided through the eyes of a child what the world was like, what God was like. If adults struggle to understand Him and sometimes get it wrong, don’t you think a child might too? Jennifer will get through this moment because she knows Jesus. However He decides to answer her prayer, she’ll be the strong one. It’s you I worry about.”

  Her words ran out and she flushed, dropped her gaze.

  He didn’t know what to say. “Ouch.”

  “You asked. But I didn’t mean to say it exactly that way.”

  “Shari.” He waited until she looked back up. “You’re direct. I’ve always admired that. And you are right in one thing. You kept trying to understand, and I gave up.” He gave a faint smile. “And you just told me in more eloquent terms than Jennifer ever will what she will be thinking.”

  He had offered an olive branch to diffuse the tension and he was grateful when she accepted it. “You’re forgetting Kate.”

  He groaned. “Tenacious gets a new definition with Kate.”

  Her expression became serious. “Marcus, you can trust Jesus with Jennifer. He loves her. I know that.”

  “I’ll think about it.”

  “Thank you. I know you can’t make a decision just to please me, or Jennifer. You’re kind enough you would probably try on most subjects to do just that. But this is different. You have to make a decision you can live with.”

  “No, Shari. I have to make a decision I can live with and one I can defend,” he corrected. “I’ve got O’Malleys to deal with.”

  “I’d commiserate with you, but I’m secretly delighted they are there pushing you out of your comfort zone. I like your family.”

  “I’ve noticed,” Marcus replied dryly. “Kate calls me and promptly asks for you.”

  She gave a small smile. “Like I said, I like your family.”

  “What do you talk about anyway?”

  She laughed, and there was no mistaking that blush. “You.”

  That blush did it. He got up and invaded her space, resting his hands on the arms of her chair. He leaned down, until he was inches away, then went still, searching her gaze, finding the anticipation waiting there. He had been thinking about the kiss from this morning throughout the day, wondering. Apparently, so had she. He leaned forward and ended the lingering questions.

  This kiss was warm and touched with an intriguing sense of mystery. The softness and sweetness pulled him to explore. He angled his head to deepen the kiss as she reached one hand up and slipped it behind his neck.

  He forced himself to ease back. He was tangling with her emotions, her heart, and he wasn’t going to do that to her, not until he could promise he was going to be a forever part of her life. She’d had enough tears; he wasn’t going to be the cause of any more. Her bemused expression made him feel so good. “Finish your book,” he whispered. “This is too explosive for tonight.”

  “Probably.” Her hand at the back of his neck tightened gently and then she grinned. “Sweet dreams, Marcus.”

  “Shari—” He swooped to
steal one last kiss. “Good night, minx.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  Marcus flew to Baltimore on Tuesday, taking a predawn flight. It was going to be a long, hard day, seeing Jennifer, then flying back very late that night. His sleep had been intermittent at best. Shari had accomplished more than she realized with that good night of hers. He had spent most of the night dreaming about what might be. He was almost glad to get the day away. A week ago he had thought it would be a chance to get back his perspective; instead it had become a chance to decide how best to proceed.

  He lifted his briefcase to the empty seat beside him and opened it, intending to do some work. There was a small white envelope resting on his planner with his name on it. Surprised, he picked it up. He recognized Shari’s handwriting. Under it was one addressed to Jennifer. Curious, he opened the envelope addressed to him and slipped out a piece of stationery.

  Marcus, I wanted to say thank you for a wonderful birthday. You helped ease my way through a painful day. That was not only thoughtful, that was very kind. And I loved the gift.

  I wish there was something I could do to repay that and help you get through the tough day you now face. I hope that seeing Jennifer will clarify how you can help her and your family.

  I am so sorry I was abrupt last night when you asked about prayer. Please let me apologize again. You have become such a good friend, and at times I find the chasm of faith between us so frustrating, but that doesn’t excuse “directness” that lacked tact. Forgive me. Hug Jennifer. Because you love her, help her laugh. Because I believe, I’ll pray for her. We will both be good medicine.

  I’ll be thinking about you today, and if you just want to talk, call me. You know my number.

  She had dotted the i in her name with a small heart.

  Shari. The very presence of the note touched his heart.

  She cared about his family. He leaned his head back against the seat, his thumb rubbing the edge of the note. He felt a deep sense of relief. He was falling in love with her. And the idea no longer felt like bad timing. He had planned to get the O’Malleys settled first, but Shari was showing him she had room for his family without even realizing she was doing it. She was moving toward his family, inviting him to share them, and showing she wouldn’t feel uncomfortable in their circle.

  This case could not be resolved soon enough.

  He closed his briefcase, putting aside the work, and leaned his head back, closing his eyes. How did he proceed? He had not only Shari and her family to think about, but the O’Malleys. To change the family dynamics in such a fundamental way—this wasn’t going to be easy, and the last thing he wanted to do was hurt any of them.

  The flight was landing in Baltimore before he had figured out a plan.

  Kate met him at the airport. He saw her leaning against a concrete pillar watching the passengers as he entered the concourse from the departure gate. She was in jeans and a blue shirt, arms crossed, and even from this distance he could tell she was letting the post support her. His eyes narrowed at the sight, for to show that exhaustion wasn’t like her. Hospitals and doctors had always been a strain for her, and the stress of the situation was now plain to see.

  Kate saw him, straightened, and came to meet him. As soon as they were free of the crowds, Marcus wrapped her in a hug. He was going to have to get Dave out here to be with her somehow. Kate wasn’t one to let many people support her, but Dave was one person who could get under her guard and take care of her.

  “You look tired.”

  So do you, he thought but didn’t say. “A little. Thanks for coming to meet me.”

  “My pleasure. How’s Shari and her family?”

  “Recovering. It’s been quiet. How’s Jennifer?”

  “Delighted that you could come.”

  Marcus left his arm around Kate’s shoulder as they walked the concourse. “Have I told you lately how much I appreciate you? You’re a trouper to be carrying this for the family.”

  “I’ll take the compliment, but nonsense,” Kate replied, lightly slapping his chest. “You need to quit feeling sorry for yourself. No one in the family thinks less of you for not being able to be here. And we’d be kicking you back to work if you tried to come. You’ve got a case to deal with.”

  “I’m hoping we can get a break in the case soon. Something has to give.”

  Kate smiled. “With Dave, Lisa, and Quinn on the job, you’ve got good help. Tell me about Shari. How did the birthday go?”

  “She’s a good sport. And she got through it fine.”

  “I’m glad. Did she like the book?”

  “Loved it.”

  “What else did she love?”

  He tweaked her nose and she laughed at him.

  He had brought only the one carry-on bag. They headed out to the parking lot. Kate indicated her car.

  The trip to the hospital was too short for Marcus to feel mentally prepared to see Jennifer. He was nervous suddenly, that he would say the wrong thing, react the wrong way.

  Kate walked with him into the hospital. “Marcus—go up by yourself. She’s in room 1310.”

  He squeezed Kate’s hand and moved to the elevator.

  Marcus took a deep breath before pushing the partially open door back to Jennifer’s private room. Bouquets of flowers lined the window ledge, and there were so many get-well cards, they had been clipped like streamers to a string so they would be visible from the bed. In the chair by the bed sat a big panda bear and a smaller green dragon. Marcus slipped into the room quietly, for Jennifer looked to be asleep.

  She had lost most of her hair. A bright rainbow scarf had been tucked around her head to cover the baldness. It was such a visible assault it made him want to cry.

  He took the seat beside her bed, hoping not to disturb her, but she stirred.

  “Marcus . . . hi.” Her voice was much softer than before, and she looked like a waif for she had lost so much weight, but her smile touched her eyes.

  He clasped her hand and leaned over to kiss her cheek. “Hi, precious.”

  He kept her hand folded in his as he pulled the chair over. She shifted on the bed and couldn’t cover the wince. He helped adjust the pillows she used to brace her back. “Better?”

  “Much.” Her fingers interlaced with his. “It is good to see you. What were you thinking, going and getting yourself shot?”

  Marcus closed his eyes, laughed, and leaned forward to rest his chin on the side rail of the bed so their faces were close. Trust Jennifer to get right to the point. “Someone wanted to shoot Shari.”

  “So you stepped in front of a bullet.”

  “I would have if I had known it was coming. He missed.”

  “I’m glad he did.”

  “So am I.”

  “You like her?”

  He nodded.

  Jennifer searched his face, then reached up and brushed back his hair, smiling. “Try—you’re falling in love with her.”

  “Just between you and me—yes, I think I am.”

  “That scares you.”

  He nodded again.

  “Why?”

  “She’s a witness, Jen. And I’m afraid I’m going to get my heart broken when this is over and life gets back to normal.”

  “Nonsense. She’s too smart to let go of a good thing.”

  Family loyalty was such an admirable thing. “Can I show you something?”

  “Sure.”

  He reached for his billfold and withdrew the sketch he had made a few nights before while Shari was working. He unfolded it and smiled as he looked at it. He handed it to his sister. “A pretty typical pose for Shari.”

  Jen studied it, then laughed. “Oh, this is priceless. Did you show her?”

  He shook his head. “She gets so absorbed in her work. She’s good at it, Jen. Start her talking about policy and you had better have done your homework. And I’m starting not to wince when she tells whoever answers the phone to tell the governor she’ll call him back later.”

  “An
interesting circle of influence.”

  “Hmm.”

  “Marcus, we need her in this family,” Jennifer said gently. “Someone has to be able to articulate with clarity what makes us unique. Shari would be perfect. We all like her.”

  “You do?” They had been talking about him on the family grapevine. He shouldn’t be surprised, but he was.

  “We do. She’d be good for you.” Jennifer squeezed his hand. “She’s got a good sense of humor. You need that. And she’s already proving she can handle the pressures of your job. She’s accustomed to traveling at a moment’s notice. And she tells these really great stories on the phone that can leave you in absolute stitches. When you’re away you can always call home and be cheered up.”

  “And here I was afraid you would be disappointed in my choice.”

  “Because her background is so different? Marcus, she likes you, and she really wants to fit in. I think she envies what you have with all of us. Kate likes her, and you know how careful a read of someone’s character she is. We’re thrilled with Shari.”

  He was bemused by her answer. “I wish it was as simple as waiting for the day this crisis is past, but it’s more than that. Even if you are right, there are obstacles.”

  “I know. Shari and I have talked.”

  “It’s hard, Jen, not to be skeptical. Shari’s prayers for her father were not answered, yours to get well don’t appear to be. I don’t want to hurt any of you, but it doesn’t fit.”

  Jen looked at him, thoughtful. “She’s already felt the hurt that comes from having a relationship unravel over different expectations for the future. She isn’t going to walk herself into a similar chasm on something as vital as religion.”

  “Sam.”

  Jennifer nodded. She thought for a moment. “I can’t answer all your questions, but maybe I can answer one. About me. Try reading John chapter 11 again. When Jesus’ good friend Lazarus was ill and dying, Jesus heard the news and He said something very surprising. He said ‘This illness is not unto death; it is for the glory of God . . . ’ It makes me wonder what He said when cancer struck me.

  “Jesus loved Lazarus. Jesus could have said the word and healed him; He had done that with the sick in other situations. But in this instance He chose not to. He wasn’t acting callously; it wasn’t the fact He didn’t care.