Loving Hearts (2 page)

Her eyes darted from his face to the woman across from her before she sent him a faint smile.

“Yes, my sister asked me to lunch,” she said. “I didn’t think I’d see you on a Saturday.”

The comment crushed his confidence like a highway stone smacking his windshield. Had she hoped to avoid seeing him? At least she’d admitted thinking about him. “I work some Saturdays,” he said, covering his confusion.

He turned his attention to her tablemate. “You’re Rachel, if I remember correctly.”

She nodded, her eyes shifting to Esther and back before she extended her hand. “Yes, and you are…?”

He grasped her palm in his. “Ian Barry. I have a library card.”

“Congratulations,” she said, following this with a girlish giggle.

Great impression, he chided himself. “I mean, that’s how I know your sister.” He let her hand slip
from his. “Esther mentioned you’re Jeff Langley’s friend?”

She grinned. “Mmm-hmm. He’s working today.”

“Is this a special occasion?” Ian asked, motioning toward their lunch plates.

Esther shook her head. “No. Nothing like that.”

“I see.” Her response left him with a go-nowhere feeling. He scuffled for something else to say. “The books have been helpful.”

“That’s my job,” she said.

Though he sensed her dismissal, he didn’t move. “I have my cutter dry-docked at the municipal marina.”

“Sounds like you’re making progress,” she said.

“Yes, I am.” Words. None came…until he eyed her plate. “How was lunch?” The mundane question fell from his lips.

“Excellent,” Rachel said. “I had the salmon.”

“It’s fresh. Caught right here,” he said, gesturing toward the lake. He couldn’t believe he was standing there discussing fish with Esther’s sister when all he wanted to do was talk with Esther.

Struck by a thought, he flinched at his lack of tact. Maybe he’d interrupted an important, even serious, conversation.

“Is this part of your job…finding out how the clientele enjoys the food?” Esther asked, a faint grin curving her pink lips.

Her smile encouraged him. “That, among other things.”

“The room has a nice view,” she said, motioning
toward the wall of windows. “I imagine the sunsets are beautiful.”

With her chin tilted upward and her gray eyes directed at his, he couldn’t recall the sunsets. He only saw her lovely face. “They are,” he said finally.

The air filled with awkward silence, so without further delay, Ian said goodbye and backed away, feeling unnaturally inept at conversation. His desire for pie had been dashed.

Esther sat unmoved for a moment, then glanced over her shoulder in time to see Ian pass through the doorway. She wondered why he’d come into the restaurant in the first place.

“Not bad,” Rachel said.

Esther swung back toward her sister. “What?”

“He’s nice looking…and friendly.”

“Yes, he is.” Esther steadied herself for what would come next. Their conversation seemed to slip into a pattern each time they were together.

“I don’t understand why you’re so standoffish with men, Esther. Obviously the man was trying to be friendly, and you acted like he was…a leper.” Rachel’s face was pinched with irritation.

Esther flinched. “I didn’t treat him any such way.”

“The poor guy was trying to make conversation. You gave him two-word responses. I don’t call that friendly.”

“You’re different than I am. Just because we’re sisters doesn’t mean we’re clones, Rachel.” Watching her sister’s hurt expression, Esther wished she
could retract her words. “I’m sorry, but there’s nothing I can do about my personality.”

“Yes, there is, and you know it. I’m tired of keeping my engagement a secret from Dad. Jeff asked me to marry him and bought the ring. I want to wear it. If you don’t do something, Esther, you’re going to ruin my life.”

E
sther gaped at her sister. Rachel’s words tore through her. What could she do? Her plans didn’t include marriage. And their father…well…he was being unreasonable.

“I’m sorry, Esther,” Rachel said, her voice a plaintive whisper. “I didn’t mean to attack you. It’s Father. He’s being—”

“Irrational,” Esther finished. “Ridiculous. Old-world. Old Testament. He’s making no sense.”

“I know…and that’s why I’m so frustrated.” Rachel brushed tears from her lower lashes. “I’ve talked to him, and he won’t listen.” She grasped Esther’s hand. “Will you speak with him?”

“About what? He’s as determined and stubborn as a trampling herd. There’s no stopping him. We’ve both talked until we’re hoarse.”

“But it’s not fair,” Rachel said, her voice trembling with harnessed emotion. “Jeff’s been as patient as any man can be. Maybe more so.”

Esther crumpled against the chair and knotted the linen napkin on her lap. “Father’s not considering my wishes, either. He’s attempting to manipulate me through you.”

“Why don’t you want to get married, Esther? Mom and Dad had a good life. What are you afraid of?”

Esther’s gaze shot upward. “I’m not afraid of anything. Good gracious, Rachel. Is fear the only reason not to marry?” Esther’s mind tumbled with excuses.

Rachel cleared her throat. “No…I suppose not. Nuns don’t marry because of their beliefs, but…”

“I’m not a nun. I’m a single career woman. Why can’t Father understand that?” Esther softened her voice, realizing it had reached a few decibels higher than she’d expected. She cringed as heads turned in her direction.

“Has anyone asked you out?” Rachel eyed her a moment before her cheeks turned a pale pink. “I mean…lately.”

“What difference does it make if someone has or hasn’t?” Esther knew the difference. And no one had…but that was only part of it. She’d rarely been asked on a date in her younger years. Too quiet, she figured. Then after Uncle Jim died in the storm and Esther watched her aunt suffer alone with the kids, she didn’t care about marriage.

Perhaps she’d been too impressionable back then, but after her mother died and she witnessed her father’s inconsolable grief, her decision had been validated. Loving meant she would risk losing someone…risk being hurt again.

“You mean you wouldn’t marry if someone…?” Rachel’s voice faltered.

Arching an eyebrow to its limit, Esther glowered at her sister’s mottled face. “I realize God instituted marriage. ‘Bone of my bones, flesh of my flesh…’ But some bones and flesh plan to stay single. Alone. Unattached.”

Rachel flinched, and Esther resolved to soften her tone again.

“You’re as stubborn as Father,” Rachel said. “You won’t even give a man a chance.”

Agreeing to lunch with Rachel hadn’t been Esther’s wisest decision. Lately their conversation always turned to her sister’s predicament, and that’s where Esther preferred it to remain—Rachel’s problem, not hers.

Esther drew in a lengthy breath. “I don’t understand why you can’t marry before I do. That’s if I ever do….” Her words faded, and she unclamped her tense jaw. “I’ll talk with Dad—again—if it will make you feel better. But it won’t do any good.”

Despite Esther’s final warning, Rachel’s face brightened, and she turned her attention to her glass of lemonade.

Esther couldn’t concentrate on anything except her quiet misery. She’d spoken to her father many times before about nearly the same subject.

When she and Rachel were younger, he’d insisted that Esther date first. Esther had to do everything before Rachel. She’d spent her life doing things she didn’t want so that Rachel could do what she wanted. And each time they tried to reason, Uriah Downing
told them the story of Laban in the Old Testament…often with a twist.

No matter how much Rachel explained that the birth of Jesus had given the world the New Testament teachings as well as the Old, her father only pooh-poohed her efforts. Uriah, like a mountain, wouldn’t budge.

A mountain? Esther shivered with the thought. The Bible taught that faith could move mountains. Could faith move Uriah Downing? Unless Esther wanted to be responsible for Rachel’s spinsterhood, she needed to try a new tactic. And she definitely needed God’s help.

Ian stood just inside the library door, speculating what he should do. Besides taking care of his research, he’d come to the library to see Esther, but she was nowhere in sight. He wondered if it might be her day off.

With one final sweep of the room, he retreated outside into the spring sunshine, stirred by disappointment. Bounding down the four slab steps, he pivoted toward the parking lot and found himself face-to-face with Esther. “Es…ther,” he said, finding his tongue tangled around her name.

She drew back for a moment until recognition or controlled surprise allowed her to speak. “Ian.”

“I thought…” He caught himself. “Where did you come from?”

“The side door,” she said. “Were you in the library? I didn’t see you.”

Ian sensed something was wrong. A dark frown
furrowed her usual smooth forehead and her natural smile seemed strained. “No, I…well…” He struggled with his response. No way could he tell her he’d left the library when he didn’t see her there. Instead, a question surged in his thoughts. “You’re not through working today?”

“No, it’s lunchtime. I needed some air.” A sigh rattled from her throat.

“Lunch.” Ian grasped the opportunity. “Isn’t that a coincidence. I was heading inside when my stomach won out over my research.” He tilted back on his heels, pleased that he’d thought so quickly. “Care to join me?”

Esther faltered for a moment, fidgeting with her shoulder-bag strap. “I suppose…yes, I guess not eating alone would be nice for a change.”

“I’d enjoy the company,” Ian said, the first truth he’d uttered in the past few seconds. “How about the deli on Sixth Street?” He gestured toward the diner.

She agreed and fell into step at his side. After a stretch of uncomfortable silence, Esther lifted her gaze from the sidewalk and looked his way. “You’re on vacation?”

“Next week,” he said, admiring the way the sunlight played on her hair. “I’m hearing too many ideas on how to refurbish my boat. I decided to read some unbiased viewpoints.”

“Objective opinions?” She nodded, a knowing look spreading across her face. “Some people get a conviction stuck in their heads and no matter what you do, you can’t budge it.”

Ian eyed her, wondering if she were talking about people in general or someone specific. Her tone had been weighted with meaning. Curious as he was, he sensed he’d be wiser not asking. Maybe at lunch she’d tell him what troubled her.

In a few blocks they reached the diner, and once he made his selection, Ian lowered his menu and enjoyed a private moment to admire Esther. Her fair skin appeared translucent in the sunlight filtering through the storefront window. As she scanned the fare, her tinted lips parted. When she lifted her gaze, her gray eyes reflected the soft blue of her simple stonewashed denim dress—like an overcast day that brightens for a moment with a break in the clouds.

“I’m not really hungry,” she said, sliding the menu onto the table. “Nothing looks appetizing.”

“Chicken noodle soup when you’re not feeling well,” Ian said, pointing to the feature for the day. “My mom always told me it was good for what ails you.”

His comment roused a faint smile on her lips, but he still longed to know what troubled her.

“Sorry, I suppose I’m a bit depressed today,” she said. “I’ve been dealing with a family situa—” She shook her head. “We don’t need to get into that.”

He eyed the furrow of concern on her face. “Why not? You just mentioned unbiased opinions. Who can give you better counsel than an uninvolved party? Try me.”

Her downcast eyes inched upward, and when they settled on his, Ian’s pulse tripped. He longed to take her hand and assure her that things would get better.
He knew from experience. How many troubles had weighed on him? Wrestling with the issues, he had pulled himself up and moved forward, praying for a brighter day ahead.

Before she responded, the waiter arrived to take their order. When he left, Ian took a long drink of ice water, wetting his dry mouth before repeating his suggestion. “Why suffer alone?” He set his glass on the table, then sent her an understanding grin and tapped his shoulder. “Here’s a place to cry if you need one.”

Her gaze drifted to his arm, then rose. A gentle smile nudged her lips before she shook her head. “I shouldn’t let it bother me. The problem is my sister’s, not mine.”

Without saying more, she fingered the water glass before raising it to her lips.

Ian’s mind drifted back to the day he’d seen Esther and her sister at Bay Breeze. He’d wondered then if perhaps he’d interrupted a serious conversation. Women naturally opened up to other women…not men. Yet looking at her, Ian longed to relieve her tension and encourage the warm smile to stay instead of fading so fast.

“Family problems are natural,” he said. “No way to get around them.”

Esther nodded, knowing Ian was correct, but how could she tell him the whole story? She ran her hand along the length of her hair, wondering how to dig herself out of the mess she’d created.

“You’re right,” she said.

“We can talk about it,” he offered again.

A gentle concern settled on his face, and she wanted to tell him…to tell someone how frustrated her father had left her after their talk, but she couldn’t. “Why ruin a friendly lunch?”

He shrugged, looking puzzled. Seeing his face, Esther realized she owed him some kind of explanation.

Silence hung in the air.

“I tried to talk to my father…for my sister,” Esther said finally, “but sometimes he uses the Scriptures for his own purpose.”

“You’re struggling with the commandments? Like how do you honor your father and not agree with him?”

“That, too, I suppose.” His comment, truer than he realized, surprised her. “No, it’s more bizarre than that.” She cringed when she finished the sentence. Could she ever keep her mouth shut?

“Not sacrificing the firstborn, I hope.” A grin spread across his face.

“No, that would be me. Nothing that dire.”

“Glad to hear there’ll be no bloodshed.”

The silence returned, and Esther struggled to give him a sensible response before letting it drop. “My sister and Jeff want to get married. That’s all.”

“Ah, your dad doesn’t like Jeff? It happens all the time.”

Agreeing with his explanation settled in Esther’s thoughts, but she couldn’t lie to him. “No, my dad likes him very much.”

Ian shook his head, a puzzled scowl etched on his face. “I don’t get it.”

“Neither do Rachel and I. Dad thinks—” she
swallowed the full story “—she’s too young to marry. I’d hoped to convince him otherwise, but I failed.”

“Too young? You’re kidding. How old is she?”

“Twenty-six.”

For a moment his frown deepened, then it shifted to reassurance. “Sounds like you did your best.”

Her best?
Guilt stabbed her. “Maybe not my best, but I tried,” she conceded.

She’d failed in many ways, disappointing her father and letting Rachel down again. Her sister gave her more credit than she deserved. Not only had the conversation with her father been useless, but it seemed to drive the concept more firmly into his stubborn mind.

Being the firstborn and raised under her father’s strict thumb, Esther found herself unable to stand up to his ways. For so long she had striven for perfection to please him. Yet she’d never succeeded. She had no idea how to make her father happy…other than finding a husband.

Rachel reacted in her own way. She responded to their father’s rules with the proverbial “grain of salt” and often prodded him to change his mind. Esther couldn’t do that. Still, for Esther and her sister, God’s word about honoring parents always won out, no matter how unreasonable her father could be.

Esther pushed the thoughts from her mind. Instead of moping, she needed to change the subject. She opened her mouth to ask about his research, but Ian looked past her and gestured to the waiter who had appeared behind her. The server slid Ian’s mile-high
sandwich in front of him, then set her bowl of soup on the table.

When he had gone, Esther dipped the spoon into the wide noodles and hunks of chicken, using the time to get her thoughts in order. With her first bite, the savory broth sent a soothing warmth through her. Thinking of Ian’s words about “good for what ails you,” she grinned and watched him concentrate on his sandwich.

If she ever were to fall in love, she’d choose a man like Ian. His gentle good nature seemed as calming as the chicken soup…except she sometimes felt rattled by the unfamiliar feelings that came over her in his presence and seemed unable to hold an intelligent conversation.

Swallowing a few more spoonfuls, Esther pushed the bowl aside.

When Ian looked up from his triple-decker, he chuckled. “I should have ordered the soup. I’m ready to burst.”

Not wanting the conversation to tread where it had been, she sent it in a new direction. “So tell me about the research.” She leaned against the seat bench. “What type of information are you looking for?”

“The mast, for one thing,” he said. “I need to replace the original one, and I’m weighing the choices. Solid wood—Sitka spruce or Douglas fir. Or possibly laminated. That’s less expensive, but then I need to worry about the glue. Maybe aluminum. I’m not sure what I want. Then I’m considering upgrading the furling system.”

“Can’t help you there,” she said, “but I’m sure we can find some information at the library.”

“I figured you’d know where to look.” He pushed his index finger against the center of his spectacles and looked at her as if he had something else to say…but he didn’t.

“Thanks for the company. I’d better get back to work,” Esther said, opening her wallet and drawing out some bills.

“Let me buy you lunch,” Ian said. “It’s the least I can do.”

Though she shook her head, he insisted and nabbed the bill from the table before she did. He strode ahead of her to the cash register, and she decided not to embarrass him by arguing.