Gail Martin - Groom in Training

“How about a high brick wall?”

Nick turned with a laugh just as Fred started barking.

Steph spun around.

The dog scampered across the yard, chasing a squirrel who dashed up her maple tree. Fred sat below while the critter chittered at him from above.

“The poor squirrel. Fred’ll stay there forever if I let him.” Steph clapped her hands. “Fred, come.”

The dog did a double take, obviously not wanting to leave his post, but he changed his mind and trotted to Steph, his head twisting to make sure the squirrel hadn’t escaped.

“Good dog.” Steph patted his head, wishing she had a treat.

Nick headed toward her, his eyes no longer on the perimeter of the fence but on her. “You’re right. No more digging.”

“Told you.”

He chucked her under the chin. “Suzette’s to blame. A woman can get under a man’s skin and cause him to do things he’s never done before.”

A man could do the same. He could burrow into a woman’s heart and cause her to feel things she hadn’t felt in years.

Nick rested his hand on her arm. “You have a real way with Fred.”

“That’s what obedience training does. It works.” She hoped she made her point.

He backed up, a playful expression spreading across his face. “Yes, but does it work on you?”

“On me?” She searched his eyes.

He clapped his hands. “Steph, come.”

Her feet moved toward him like a magnet. He slipped his hand on her shoulder and gave her a long look. “Good girl.”

Their eyes locked. She couldn’t move. She blinked, her control draining. She broke the connection, but her gaze lowered, drawn to his lips so close she could almost taste them.

“Great job.” He drew back as if he’d felt the same pull of emotion. “You’re almost as good as Fred.”

Steph found her voice. “If that’s so, then where’s my treat?” Did she really say that?

His eyes flashed. “Hmm? Good question.” He rested his hands on her shoulders. “Do you own a bicycle?”

Her pulse kicked. “A bicycle? I don’t know if I can still ride a bicycle.”

“It’s like walking. Once you’ve learned you never forget.” He squeezed her shoulder. “I can borrow one for you.”

“That’s my treat?”

He laughed. “It’s Memorial Day this weekend. We’ll go on a picnic. How about letting me grill you a steak?”

“So that’s why you came over.” She gave him a feeble smile as he slipped his arm around her shoulder. “I’ve always had a thing for steak.”

“Me, too.” He grew silent, looking into her eyes.

Friendship. He made a great friend, and though she could live without the steak, affection was another story.

Nick maneuvered the bike he’d borrowed for Steph into his SUV and slammed the tailgate. He eyed his watch. Late again. After slipping his cell from his pocket, he opened the driver’s door with the other hand and swung into the seat. When he’d finally had the brains to ask for Steph’s phone number, he put it into his cell phone, and now he pressed the memory button, shaking his head at his inconsideration. Late should have been his middle name.

The phone rang, and when he heard her voice, his chest tightened. “I know I’m late, but I’m on my way.”

“I understand” is all she said, and that made him feel worse. When he’d been late for his dinner with Al, Nick knew he was irked. But Steph seemed accepting. He didn’t know how to read that. Did she care enough that she forgave him, or didn’t she care enough for it to make a difference?

He slipped the cell into his pocket and backed out of his garage, his mind on the day. He reviewed what he had brought for their picnic—a small grill, charcoal, steaks, bikes and soft drinks. Steph agreed to handle the rest. She was amazing.

The idea of spending the day with her made him smile. No dogs. No time pressure. Fresh air. Time to talk. That’s what he needed. He had so many things to learn about her, and one day he wanted to tell her about his broken engagement, but it opened too many doors right now. Later maybe when he knew how things were going with them. Now they were friends. Friends almost too fast and that scared him.

Her faith. The concern knotted in his mind. He liked her too much. They had things in common—the love of dogs, laughter, pride in their work—but that wasn’t enough. His love for God was primary in his life, and he needed that in his marriage.

Marriage. Where did that come from? His heart had rushed past his good sense. Marriage wasn’t an option until he got his act together and until he felt God’s leading to a life partner. But that’s what bothered him. Nick did feel something different. He sensed Steph had come into his life for a reason and for a deeper purpose. They had a comfortable relationship together already. When he dropped by, the pleasure sparked in her eyes. But he’d also seen the look of question there, too, and he longed to know what it meant.

Perhaps a widow saw relationships differently. He did, though he’d never walked down the aisle. It had been so close. No matter how hard he tried to forget those feelings, they didn’t vanish completely. Incidences dragged them out, making him question himself and shattering his confidence as a man worthy of a good woman. Rejection imploded the spirit, attacking trust, judgment and assurance. He’d covered his hurt for so long. On the outside, he functioned and went on.

But the inside had been shattered.

Still life went on, and Steph somehow picked up some of the pieces of his life and patched them back together without knowing it. He gazed upward at the bright blue sky—the color of her eyes—and sensed today would be special.

The drive to Steph’s reminded him of too many treks to Martin’s. He’d become his gofer, and though he wanted to be helpful, one day it had to stop.

Nick turned left, and in moments pulled into Steph’s driveway and slipped from the SUV. Fred’s nose pressed against the window welcoming him.

He strode to the doorway and rang the bell. Fred’s excitement sounded through the glass but otherwise silence.

He waited.

Eyeing his watch, he calculated he’d made good time. He’d been only forty minutes late. Curious, he wandered to the backyard. No one but Fred’s tail whacking the sliding patio door. Served him right. How many people had he kept waiting?

When he reversed his steps, Steph met him in front of the house, holding a picnic hamper. “Sorry. I spilled salad dressing on my clothes and had to change.”

He grasped the basket, hoping she’d accepted his apology. “I was the late one.” He carried the food to the car while she ran inside and came out with two lawn chairs. “I thought we might like these.”

Nick nodded and tossed them inside, and they were on their way. He felt tension when he pulled onto Rochester Road, and it didn’t subside until he’d crossed Square Lake Boulevard. Steph talked about her day care and her worries about her coworker Emily. He talked about his work. Neither said a word about themselves.

When he turned off University Drive to Seventh Street, he saw the entrance to Rochester Municipal Park. The fountain spilled water into the pond as they passed, and they wended their way to the picnic area. Though they hadn’t been the only ones to choose this setting for a holiday celebration, Nick found a space and parked. He pointed out an empty picnic table close to a family reunion or some special occasion where balloons rimmed the area. “Okay?”

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