Irene Hannon - A Family to Call Her Own

It wasn’t that she didn’t want to date him. She did. She found him attractive, was flattered by his attention, impressed by his apparent character and integrity. But she was so afraid of what would happen if he… A choked sob cut off her thought in mid-sentence. She didn’t have to wonder what would happen. She knew. Physical closeness freaked her out. Period. She’d embarrass both of them. He might even be angry. She didn’t know him well enough to be able to judge his reaction. But based on past experience with other men, it wouldn’t be pretty. No, dating Zach would be a mistake.

Besides, she consoled herself, he’d be leaving soon. This was just a temporary beat for him. He was a city man, used to lights and action and excitement. And he sure wouldn’t find those in St. Genevieve. She was better off sticking to her original decision.

But if that was true, then why didn’t she feel better off? she cried silently.

Zach typed in the final line of his story, then leaned back and wearily massaged his temple. It had been a long, cold, wet night, and it had taken him what seemed like hours to warm up after he dropped Rebecca off. But at least he had a good story to show for his discomfort, he thought in satisfaction. It uplifted. It reaffirmed. It found goodness even in the midst of chaos and tragedy. It was the kind of story Josef would like, he realized suddenly, a faint smile touching his lips as he thought of his friend.

Zach pulled out his wallet and flipped through the plastic holders, stopping at one that contained a photo taken at Isabel’s christening, nearly eight years before. Josef and Katrina had insisted that Zach be the godfather, though he’d protested that the honor should go to a relative. He still remembered Josef’s response to his reaction.

“Sometimes ties of the heart are the strongest of all, stronger even than blood, Zachary. You are my best friend, and you would honor us by becoming part of our family in this way.”

And so, of course Zach had agreed. He recalled clearly the day the picture was taken. It was right before Zach and Katrina went home, an unseasonably warm late-May afternoon even for St. Louis. They asked him to hold Isabel for the picture, and then stood on either side of him while the minister snapped the photo. Zach had no experience with babies and was almost afraid to grasp the tiny, fragile bit of life, with her flailing arms and kicking legs. But Josef laughingly assured him that Isabel wouldn’t break, and in fact she lay quietly in his arms as the picture was taken, staring up at him solemnly with big blue eyes.

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