GRACE MET BRIAN at the church on Saturday morning. Half a dozen other adults showed up to chaperone the teen outing at Zuma Beach. Charlie, one of the church deacons, drove the bus while Brian talked with the kids. He’d loaded his iPhone with Christian rock music. The teenage girls sitting behind Grace thought Samuel was adorable. Grace turned sideways on the bus seat so she could hold him while talking with them. One asked if she was the lady who went to Lawry’s with Pastor Brian. Grace admitted she was.
A pretty girl with a pierced eyebrow and a butterfly tattoo on her neck leaned forward. “He’s so cool. Anyone would want to be his girlfriend.”
She wanted to quell any gossip. “Pastor Brian is very nice, and we’re friends. That’s why I came along to help today.”
The two teenage girls shared a smiling look and changed the subject.
As soon as the bus driver turned in to the beach parking area, Brian assigned teens to help unload supplies and claim an area for the barbecue. “No shirkers! Help each other.” He worked harder than anyone. It was early, breezy and cold, but beach enthusiasts were already arriving. The chill would soon be gone, the sun out, and the beach packed. Girls complained of being cold. Brian drafted help to put up a volleyball net and got a game going. Within minutes, sweatshirts were tossed.
Several girls descended on Grace and asked if they could hold the baby. Seeing that Samuel was more than happy with them, Grace joined the game.
By noon, the sun was high and hot and everyone glistened with sunblock. Brian and the teens bodysurfed or took turns riding boogie boards. Most of the adults didn’t want to get their feet wet. Grace went in knee-deep, holding Samuel in front of her so he could feel the frothy salt water tickle his toes. Squealing in delight, he kicked his legs. Laughing, Grace felt lighthearted and happy for the first time in months.
Brian joined her. “He wants to swim already.”
A day in the sun made the teens mellow and ready to talk on the drive back. Grace admired the way Brian connected with his kids. He joked with them and easily turned light conversation into the more serious discussion of faith and what it meant to walk with God. When asked pointed questions, he shared some of his own struggles and mistakes. Surprised, Grace listened to him talk about sex and the challenge of staying chaste until marriage. Several teased him at first, but a few exchanged glances telling Grace they might have already gone too far.
“All our friends are having sex, Pastor.”
“It can seem that way.” Brian rested his arm on the back of the seat. “Everyone was saying it was okay in my day, too.” Several said sex was no big thing anymore. As long as the two parties consented, it was no one else’s business. “It’s God’s business,” Brian said firmly. “Don’t kid yourself. Sex has always been a big thing. Let me tell you what I’ve learned.” He had their complete attention. “Girls play at sex to get love, and guys play at love to get sex. Charlene and I wanted to do everything God’s way. That meant staying virgins until we got married.”
“How’d you manage that?” a boy asked from the back, and another gave a crude answer. A girl told him to shut up.
Brian held up his hand. “Brady asked a question. How did we manage to stay virgins? We pushed up the wedding date.” The kids all laughed at that. “We got married while we were still in college. We had six great years together before I lost her in a car accident.” Anyone looking at his face would know he still loved and missed her. “What I’m trying to tell you is sex is powerful. In the right context, it’s a beautiful gift from God. Used in the wrong way, it can wound and break hearts. It can ruin lives.”
Grace could attest to that.
The conversation moved to drugs and partying, music and parents. Brian walked forward and talked to the deacon driving the bus. Then he faced the group. “Who’s hungry?” Hands shot up. Brian grinned. “That’s good, because we’re stopping for pizza.” The kids whooped and cheered.
The bus pulled into a Round Table, and everyone piled out and headed inside. Grace sat with two girls while Brian went from booth to booth, talking with the kids. A boy who was not part of their group sat in a booth nearby. Brian paused to talk to him, too. After a couple of minutes, he slid into the seat facing him. Grace thought of Roman. He was a loner, too, though he wasn’t as unapproachable as he’d seemed at first.
The kids were quiet on the ride back to the church. Some slept. Others talked in low voices. Samuel slept on Grace’s lap, his head against her chest. Brian looked at him and smiled at her. “Nothing like the sleep of the innocent.” His mouth tipped. “We’d just gotten the word we were expecting when Charlene was in the accident. Our baby would have been almost four years old now.”
“I’m so sorry for your loss, Brian.” Grace didn’t know what else to say.
“You can’t take anything for granted in life.” His expression softened. “I’m glad you came along today. The kids took to you.”
“They took to Samuel.”
“He’s a charmer.” He got up and moved again, checking on people one by one.
As soon as the bus pulled into the church parking lot, the students gathered their beach towels and bags and met parents in the parking lot, or headed for their own cars. Brian was busy, talking to the adults, making sure everyone had a ride home. Grace secured Samuel in his car seat. When she straightened, Brian joined her. “I hope you had a good time.”
She smiled at him. “The best in quite a while.”
“Glad to hear it. We didn’t have as much time together as I hoped. Sorry about that.”
They hadn’t had more than five minutes at a time all day, but she’d spent most of the day observing Brian Henley, and learned a lot about how he viewed and treated people. Even strangers like the boy sitting alone in a booth at the pizza parlor. “You have great rapport with your group, Brian. They listen to you and respect you.” Clearly, he had earned both. “Samuel had fun, too.” She laughed. “All those pretty teenage girls gushing over him.”
“Every boy’s dream.”
“I had ten babysitters begging for work.”
“And all of them hoping to someday have a cute little baby just like him.”
“Hopefully not under the same circumstances.” She spoke without thinking and blushed. When Brian looked at her, she lifted her shoulders. “Not all of us were as wise as you and Charlene.”
“Is it something you want to talk about?”
Was he putting on his counselor’s hat? “Not today.” Maybe never. So much depended on how well she and Brian got along.
Brian didn’t press. “I’d like to see you again. Outside church activities.”
“I’d like that, too.” Grace opened the driver’s side door and slid into the seat. She put the key in the ignition and lowered the window. Hooking on her seat belt, she looked up at Brian. “Thank you for inviting me along today.”
Brian put his hands on the door and leaned down. “Glad you could make it. How about dinner Monday night? It’s my day off. I’ll pick you up at your place? All I need is the address.” Pleased, she gave him the information. She hadn’t expected him to ask her out so soon, if he did at all. Especially after her precipitous remark. He pushed himself back from her car. “Drive carefully. I’ll see you day after tomorrow.”
Even on such short acquaintance, Grace felt certain Brian had all the qualities she dreamed of for a future husband and father for her son: a man of God, honest, dependable, intelligent, and attractive. Someone truly nice, someone who loved children, someone who worked for a living. She wasn’t sexually attracted to Brian, but that could be a good thing. She didn’t want emotion clouding her judgment.
Lord, Brian Henley is the kind of man I want to marry someday, if I ever marry again. He’s a good, solid, dependable, nice guy who could love someone despite glaring faults and failures. Someone like Brian could love Samuel like a son. So, I’m asking. If this is your plan, Lord, please make it clear. You know how stupid I can be, how blind to who people really are. Please, Lord. Protect me. I don’t want to pick the wrong guy again.
Roman awakened late Saturday morning, head pounding, and thirsty. Now that he was awake, he wanted to get back to Topanga Canyon. He shaved in the shower and called the valet to have his car brought around. Tossing clothing and toiletries into his duffel bag, he zipped it shut and slung it over his shoulder. He picked up a five-dollar coffee from the lobby vendor and headed out of the hotel. Grace made better. Saturday and Sunday were her days off. He’d have to wait for a good cup of java until Monday morning.
It was midafternoon before Roman pulled into his garage. His mail was on the kitchen counter, opened and neatly stacked in chronological order, sticky notes on the more important items that needed his personal attention. She’d balanced his accounts and left a computer report of his income and expenses, everything neatly logged in categories. His tax accountant was going to love her.
On his way to his bedroom, he saw the guest room. He took a step back. Grace had chosen a mahogany sleigh bed, nightstands with lamps, and a high dresser. She hadn’t stopped with bedroom furniture, but added a comfortable chair, reading lamp, and Persian-style rug. Roman dumped his duffel bag in the hall and went in to look around. Blues, greens, touches of red and yellow, but no pastels. The room was masculine without being macho. She’d hung two sets of blue towels in the bathroom. On the counter were three clear glass canisters, one filled with seashells, another with colorful river rocks, and the smallest with wrapped soaps.
He’d left his own bedroom in all its glory: bed unmade, towels and clothes on the floor, closet doors open. Embarrassed at the contrast with the immaculate guest room, Roman stripped his bed. He gathered the dirty towels and headed for the laundry room. Maybe it was a good time to go over to the cottage, tell her he was back and she’d done a good job on the guest room. He knocked on her front door. No answer. He tried again, listening. No footsteps. No radio playing. She didn’t own a television.
She’d gone out. Why should that surprise him?
He went back to the big house and killed time watching a basketball game and making sketches in the black book he kept under the couch. He went over again as the sun was going down. Still no answer.
It’s Saturday, stupid. It’s her day off. Why shouldn’t she be off someplace having fun? She probably has a boyfriend.
That thought unsettled him. He didn’t want to think about why.
He put the sheets and towels in the dryer and went into the kitchen to make himself a sandwich. Later, while making his bed, he thought about Masterson Ranch and the bachelor arts Susan had taught him. Oddly enough, he’d liked the routine, the order, set meals at set times, the rules for how to treat one another.
When and why had he turned into a slob?
The TV blared as one of the teams won—he didn’t know which and didn’t care. He picked up the remote and shut it off. He went up to his studio and noticed the cottage lights were on. Grace was home.
The solar lights had come on along the path between the big house and cottage. He knocked rather than ringing the bell. Was that a baby crying? The door opened, and Grace’s expression was anything but welcoming. She held a red-faced, crying baby in her arms. Roman grimaced. “He doesn’t look happy.” Neither did she.
“He’s had a big day. Sometimes when he’s overstimulated, he gets fussy.”
Roman guessed she’d babysat enough times to know.
When Grace left the door open as she walked away, he took it as an invitation to enter. “I came over to tell you the guest room looks great.” He closed the door behind him.
She smiled at him. “Thank you.” The baby seemed calmer, leaning his head on her chest and peering at him as Grace swayed her body, rocking him gently. He had thick, dark hair, café au lait skin, and dark-brown eyes.
Her place felt like an oasis. A Bible lay open on the kitchen table, along with a journal. Curious, Roman wanted to pick it up and read what she’d written. Not a good idea. “You have him again.” Shanice probably stuck Grace with her kid as often as possible so she could go off somewhere and party.
Grace rubbed the baby’s back. “I have him every chance I get.”
“I don’t think he wants a nap.”
“Unfortunately, he already had a long nap on the way home from the beach.”
Grace laid the baby in the middle of a plush, ribbon-edged blanket on the carpeted floor. “All right, little man.” She handed Samuel a rattle. He shook it several times and hurled it. Grace stretched to retrieve it, exposing smooth white skin at the waistband of her jeans. Samuel rolled over and pushed himself up.
Roman chuckled. “Looks like he’d rather do push-ups.”
Still on her knees, she looked up at Roman. “I’m glad you like the guest room.”
She wasn’t rushing him out the door. He smiled slightly. “The canisters of seashells and rocks were a bit much.”
“I have the receipts. I can return them.”
“I was kidding. I might let you redo my bedroom.”
“Oh, no. Nice try, but I’m not cleaning up your mess.”
He gave her a wry smile. “I stripped my bed and washed the sheets. I’ve been doing laundry since I got back.”
Baby Samuel let out a distinct noise, drawing their attention. When the baby’s face turned dark red, Roman laughed. “I think you’re going to be doing laundry, too.”
Grace sighed. “It’s the formula. Thankfully, he’s wearing disposable diapers.”
“I thought you were a recycling activist.”
“Within reason.” Grace got up and went into the bedroom. Roman watched Samuel push his knees under his chest. The baby rocked back and forth and toppled face-first. Pushing himself up again, he let out a ferocious scream. Grace appeared, hands full of diaper-changing supplies.
Roman raised his hands. “I didn’t do anything.”
“Then don’t look so guilty.” Kneeling, she turned Samuel over. “He can sit up. Now he wants to crawl.” In less than two minutes, she had the soiled diaper removed, the baby’s bottom clean and fitted with a new one. Leaning down, she blew on his belly. Samuel grabbed her hair and let out a baby giggle. Turning him over again, Grace patted Samuel’s freshly diapered bottom. He pushed himself up again and looked at Roman. Grace smiled. “He wonders who the strange man is.”
Roman sat in the swivel rocker and leaned forward. “I’m her boss, kid.”
“He’s not a goat. He’s a child, and his name is Samuel.”
“Hey, Sammy . . .”
“I’d rather you called him Samuel.”
Her tone offered no compromise, and the look on her face made him wonder why such a little thing mattered. “What does Shanice call him?”
Grace looked confused. “She calls him ‘little man.’ That’s his nickname, not Sammy.” Her phone rang, distracting her. She rose quickly and went to the kitchen table. Roman could tell by her tone it wasn’t one of her girlfriends. “He’s tired, but fine. I had him slathered with sunblock.” Her tone had noticeably warmed. Why should that annoy him?
When Grace glanced at him, Roman stood. Time to go. Leaning down, he patted Samuel’s behind. “Have fun, buddy.” She asked the caller to wait a moment, no doubt wanting more privacy than she had right now. Roman didn’t give her a chance to say anything. “I’ll see you Monday morning.”
Back at the main house, Roman decided to toss his self-imposed celibacy to the wind and spend the rest of the evening at a club.