Kathryn Alexander - A Wedding In The Family

Adam shook his head without looking away from Angela’s steady blue gaze. “They’ve both died. My father had a heart attack when he was only fifty-four.”

“So young?” Angela asked.

“That’s not young,” Heather informed them. “Mom, you know Grandpa is fifty-four!”

Adam and Angela both laughed a little. Then Adam offered, “I guess it depends on your perspective.”

Their perspectives both came from the thirty-something bracket. Angela guessed probably thirty-four or thirty-five for Adam as she glanced at his dark blond hair, cut short and tapered neatly to the collar of his plaid shirt. She particularly liked the crinkly laugh lines at the corners of his eyes when he smiled. That gave him a friendly, appealing look that Angela was certain she wasn’t the first female to notice.

She realized Adam was assessing her, too, from across the table, and wished for a moment that she could read his mind. Then she decided that it was probably better that she couldn’t. She might be disappointed. However, in the smokey gray of his eyes, she saw what she was sure was a gleam of interest.

Eventually they finished their ice cream and made the short walk to Adam’s silver pickup truck for the ride back to the center. Heather climbed into the middle of the front seat; Angela joined her on the passenger side, and Adam shut the door. Then he drove back to the large parking lot where he pulled the truck up next to Angela’s very used, dark green van. The wear and tear of three kids and their friends over the years had a way of aging anything. Including moms.

Heather hopped from the truck to her seat in the van, and Angela and Adam walked across to the driver’s door.

“How was your ice cream?” he asked as they lingered a moment.

“Never better,” she answered honestly. And it had little to do with the caramel or the peanuts, she thought.

“My thoughts exactly.” Adam smiled, but a sudden seriousness stole over his expression. Angela lowered her eyes to look at his hand where it rested on the door handle. But the door remained closed. “Will you go to dinner with me sometime? We’ll take the kids with us.”

“I don’t know, Adam,” she said cautiously. “It’s been a long time…I’m not very good at this sort of thing.” She didn’t glance up. She didn’t need the encouragement of a tender look.

“Oh, I don’t know about that. I think you handled that sundae about as well as any other woman I’ve been out with in the last few years.” He opened her door, and she got into the driver’s seat—which, she thought ironically, was exactly where she was in the relationship. It could go forward…or die right here and now in this parking lot. It was her call.

“Your kids can even pick the restaurant,” he offered, “as long as it’s something other than fast food.”

Sure, Angela argued with herself, she liked him, but she could be wrong about him the same as she’d been wrong about Dan. She didn’t want another “unhappily ever after” relationship. Solitude—even loneliness—sounded better than that. But turning him down now might make him more determined to win her over. Maybe she could make a date with him to show him how wrong it could be for them. What could she invite him to do that would discourage any interest that had been kindled? Then she remembered the church cookout.

“Why don’t you go to dinner with us?” she asked with a smile. “There’s a church cookout a week from Saturday that starts in the afternoon and lasts until dark. The kids and I are going. So are Mom and Dad. It’s for the church family and their guests.” Most of whom Adam couldn’t know—certainly a daunting enough invitation for a man.

Adam looked away from her for a moment Then he looked back into her eyes. “What time should I pick you up?”

Angela blinked. She hadn’t even thought that far ahead. “I guess…around three…would be good.”

The door to the van closed securely. “I’ll see you then,” he stated. “Be careful driving home. ‘Bye, Heather.” He paused. “Angela, I’m glad you went with me tonight. I know this is…awkward for you.”

She nodded and smiled. He understood her better than she wanted him to. Then she said good-night, and drove away, exhaling a deep sigh.

“What’s wrong, Mom? Didn’t you have a good time?” Heather asked.

Angela felt her daughter studying her frowning profile. “I don’t know enough about Adam Dalton to have as good a time with him as I did.”

“How can you ever get to know him if you don’t spend time with him? He’s a really nice man. You’ll see.”

But Angela had already seen…and she was beginning to feel, too. That was the part she hadn’t expected. He seemed kind. Overall, he appeared to be one of the new “sensitive” type of men she’d seen over the years but had not experienced for herself. She thought briefly of her brothers: Rob and Eric were both better husbands than any she knew—including her own father. Now, here was Adam. Was he really the way he appeared to be and, if so, why hadn’t he already met the right woman and settled down with a family? Why would he want to consider being involved in her life…with her children? And why couldn’t she just send him away instead of playing with fire?

“Why don’t you like him?” Heather persisted.

“I do like him, Heather,” Angela said. “But I don’t know if I want to date him…have a relationship with him. Do you understand what I mean?”

“You mean like be his girlfriend?”

“Exactly. I don’t think I want to do anything like that right now. I don’t think I’m ready for that.”

“You are getting older all the time, Mom. When do you think you might be ready for that?”

Angela laughed more from surprise than from amusement “So I’m getting older. That doesn’t mean I need to rush to find a husband so I’ll have someone to grow old with. Being alone would be better than being with the wrong person.”

And how can I know? she asked inwardly. Lord, how can I be sure seeing Adam is a wise choice? I can’t endure another mistake. Not now—not with the kids to consider. Still she couldn’t deny the feeling that stirred deep inside when their eyes had met in a lingering gaze.

“How do you know Adam is the wrong person for you?” Heather asked.

“How do you know he’s not? ” Angela countered.

“He has friendly eyes.”

“Eyes?” Angela repeated. “You noticed that, too?”

“Sure. Maybe we have friendly eyes, too. Maybe that’s what made him think we were Christians before he knew for sure. You think so, Mom?”

Angela smiled and reached over to squeeze Heather’s left hand. “Could be, honey. I’ve not really thought about that before.” There were lots of things she’d not considered before now. Like wanting another man in her life…like imagining that man might be Adam.

More than a week passed before the cookout, and they were days filled with life—the dailiness of it—school, work, housecleaning, cooking, laundry, church attendance, appointments, nightly homework. Then Thursday-night swimming came around again.

Heather remained reluctant to dive despite her mother’s encouragement, and Angela couldn’t go to lessons with her due to a meeting at the school. When she picked up Heather at the center that evening, Adam was not around. Much later that evening, long after the kids were in bed, Angela sat down in the quietness of her kitchen with a cup of tea. She hoped Adam wouldn’t forget about Saturday. And then, she hoped that he would. If he was going to hurt Heather’s feelings, or anyone else’s, she’d rather it happened now—early in the game.

The phone rang, startling Angela in the near darkness of the room. Maybe it was Adam calling to cancel. Or to confirm. She picked up the receiver, but the voice on the other end of the line was the soft voice of a friend.