The Reluctant Bride (8 page)

Rain-spattering footsteps splashing through the courtyard caused Micah to hurry to the door, opening it wide.

“Come in,” she called as Rob neared the entrance to her apartment. “The kids got home okay?”

He stepped inside the doorway, out of the drizzle and handed her a package. “Yes, and on the way there, I stopped at one of the one-hundred-flavor icecream stores.”

“A hundred flavors! Rob, I think there are really only thirty or so.”

“Whatever. It doesn't matter. If there were only two flavors, the kids would argue over it. I finally ended up buying a half gallon of some double-dutch chocolate or something like that for the boys to take home, and Heather wanted—”

“Mint chocolate chip?” Micah asked as she took Rob's rain-soaked jacket from him after setting the package on the floor.

Rob looked at her in obvious surprise. “How'd you know?”

“I've purchased ice-cream cones for dozens of kids at one time or another. She just looked like someone who might ask for the green minty kind.”

“Thank you,” Rob said quietly as Micah placed his jacket on a hanger and looked up at him. “I mean…for helping me with the kids, especially on such short notice.”

“You're welcome. So what's in the package?”

“What flavor of ice cream might you ask for, Miss Shepherd?”

“Depends on the mood I'm in,” she replied. “On a rainy day like this, I'd probably think something chocolate would be comforting.”

“Lucky guess on my part,” Rob said, pulling a half gallon of chocolate ice cream from the sack. “You'd better put this in the freezer before it melts.”

“Thank you.” Micah took the carton from his extended hands.

“Wait. There's something else in here for you.”

Rob pulled a square box about the size of a large telephone book from the bag. “There was an electronics store right next door to the ice-cream shop—”

“Electronics?”

“And they were having a sale on telephone answering machines.”

“Answering machines? Rob, they're expensive. I can't accept—”

“Yes, you can. I would have gladly given the price of this machine several times over these past ten days to be able to get an accurate message to you. Do me and our conflicting schedules a favor and accept it.”

Micah looked from the machine Rob was pulling from the cardboard box to the ice cream in her hands.

“Go ahead and put that away,” Rob said, nodding toward the ice cream. “I'll hook up this thing and we'll see how it works.”

She smiled and exited the living room. “Do you want any dinner?” she called from the kitchen. “I could make a pizza.”

“No, thanks. I'm not hungry.”

Micah pulled open the drawer underneath the kitchen sink and gathered up the few tools she kept
in her apartment “Maybe you'll need these,” she offered as she placed them on the floor beside Rob.

“I don't think so. It's been so long since I've hooked one of these up, I can't remember exactly how to do this.”

Micah sat down, cross-legged on the floor next to him, and read over the operating directions as he worked. “This will be great, Rob. When someone calls, I can hear them talk. Then, if it's important, I can pick up the phone and talk to them.”

“And if you hear that Scott's voice again, you can let him talk to the machine,” he said in a low tone.

“He won't be calling again,” Micah assured him, trying to suppress a grin. A possessive streak was a quality she sometimes liked in a man.

“What I want to know is why he called in the first place.” Rob sat the machine rather noisily on the stand by the phone and reached into the box for the cassette tape. “Your relationship with him is obviously over. Isn't he aware of that?”

“I reminded him and told him I'm involved with someone.” Micah pushed some of her long curls back over her shoulder and pretended to concentrate on the instruction booklet in her hands. This conversation would be better ended, she knew.

“So that was it? He wasn't any more persistent than to simply say, ‘okay’?”

Rob was the one being persistent. Why did he ask
these questions? She knew she would give him an honest answer, and he knew it, too.

“Well, no, he wanted to see me anyway, but—”

“How long has it been since you've dated him?” Rob slid the cassette tape into place and snapped shut the lid. Piercing blue eyes now focused on her, but Micah kept her eyes glued to the operation instructions she still held in her hands.

“I don't know. About a year, I suppose,” she answered. “Our breakup is not a date I keep on my calendar.”

“Is it over, Micah?” he asked.

She looked up into his frowning face. “I just said we stopped seeing each other over a year—”

“No, I mean the way you felt about him. Is it over?”

“Yes, of course it is,” Micah responded quickly. “I told him I was involved with you and that it's…”

Rob studied her wavering green gaze. “Serious.” He finished her sentence.

She nodded her head without speaking.

“It is, you know.” Rob touched her cheek lightly.

“I know,” she agreed in a whisper. “But there are things you don't know about me, Rob. Things—”

“Things that you're ready to tell me?” Rob interrupted. “I'm not going back to that old argument of yours. We're already involved, Micah, and until you're prepared to give me specific reasons why we can't remain together, I'm not going to discuss it.”
He turned a couple of dials on the answering machine, and then said, “Here. Record a message to answer the calls.”

“Let me think of what I want to say before you turn it on.”

“Tell them you can't come to the phone, but you'll return the call as soon as possible. Be sure to tell them to leave their name and number.”

“Maybe I should ‘ask’ them to leave their information,” she said in response to his brisk orders.

“Ask them, tell them, whatever. Are you ready?”

She recorded a brief message and when she finished, they played it back.

“Sounds good,” Rob commented as he began to rewind the tape.

“Rob…” She touched his hand, bringing his action to a halt. “Thank you…for the answering machine and the ice cream.”

“For disrupting your peaceful day with two nephews and a niece in need of a sitter?”

She laughed. “That, too. I really think they had a pretty good time. Don't you?”

“Yes,” he answered, sliding over to sit closer to her on the living-room floor. “But it wasn't exactly the day I would have planned for us.”

“Me, neither,” she responded. “But we'll have other rainy days.” She glanced up at the nearby window and saw the rain continue to fall. She scrambled to her feet and opened the window, allowing the cool scent of rain to enter. “Shh.” She held her
fingers to her lips as she sat down beside Rob again, close to the sofa so they could both lean back against it. She rested her head on his shoulder, and they sat quietly on the floor. “Hear the rain hitting the leaves on the apple tree?” she said.

Rob kissed the top of her head, his mouth moving against her soft hair. “Yes, hon, I hear it”

Micah nestled closer to him. “You couldn't have slept much last night. You didn't leave here until nearly two-thirty this morning, and didn't you say Angela brought the kids at 5:00 a.m.?”

“Uh-huh,” he confirmed as Micah turned her head enough to see if his eyes were still open. As she suspected, they were not.

“You'll be more comfortable on the couch,” she offered with a gentle nudge to his side. “You need to get some rest.”

“No, I—”

“Go on.” She patted a sofa cushion behind them.

“You're exhausted, Rob. You need to sleep.”

“Maybe for a little while,” he replied quietly.

Micah disappeared into the bedroom for a moment and returned with a multicolored afghan and tossed it over his sleeping form.

Then she retrieved her easel from the back room and set it up in the living room in front of the window. The church was taking form as the central focus of the painting, but the sky was what she was working on now. The few wispy clouds accented the beautiful blue sky.

A few minute's rest turned into a couple of hours, as Micah had suspected they would. The trial had been demanding, and Rob had looked very tired last night and all day today. Smiling, she continued with her work. She had never imagined herself pleased with a date who fell asleep on her living-room sofa. She must be falling in. She stopped, paintbrush in midair and gazed at the man asleep on her couch. So this was what love was like? Being happy just to have him in the same apartment with her, even sleeping? That, and the way she could feel as though he had touched her with only a gentle look? And when he kissed her…

Rob stirred, and Micah returned her concentration to the canvas.

“What are you doing?” he asked, sitting up slowly and running a hand through his disheveled hair.

“Working,” she replied. “I've been trying to finish this painting for weeks.”

“What time is it, anyway?” he asked, glancing down at his watch.

“Nine-fifteen.”

“Nine-fifteen? I've been asleep nearly two hours. Why didn't you wake me?”

“You were tired. I know you didn't get much rest last night,” Micah replied, “and I liked watching you sleep.”

He glanced at his watch again. “I've got to get home so I can look over a few notes for tomorrow.”
Standing up, he smoothed some wrinkles from his clothes. “Some date, huh? I bring three kids here for you to supervise and feed, and then I fall asleep on your sofa.”

“It was rather unique,” she said quietly. But it had been a day she enjoyed.

Rob wasn't smiling, but that tenderness in his eyes couldn't be mistaken, and it always made her smile.

“Thank you, Micah, for the help with the kids…for answering your door at two in the morning…”

“You're welcome,” she responded. “I could still fix a pizza if you'd like to stay awhile.”

“No, I can't. I'll get a sandwich on the way home.” He pulled his jacket from the closet

“How about chocolate ice cream?” she offered, watching him slip into the lightweight, gray jacket. She suspected he disliked leaving as much as she hated letting him go.

“Maybe next time,” he replied. The weariness returned to his face as he stood by the door, ready to leave. “I don't know when I'll see you again. Who knows when this nightmare of a trial will end.”

“When it does, I'll be here,” she answered.

“And so will I,” he said and kissed her on the forehead before disappearing into the damp night air.

Micah closed the door and the window, shutting
out the cool evening breeze. Walking to the sofa, she picked up the afghan to fold it into a neat square and return it to the closet, but the faint smell of his cologne lingered on it, bringing her action to a halt. Hugging it to her frame, the warmth brought tears to her eyes.

“Oh, Rob,” she whispered. Then she sank into the cushions, enjoying the warmth of his napping place. “What am I going to do with you?”

M
onday and Tuesday passed with no word from Rob, but they were beautiful, happy days for Micah because she knew she would see him again. They would have more times together, once the trial ended.

When she entered her apartment on Wednesday evening, Patches followed her through the front door into her living room, where Micah found the red light flashing on her answering machine. She pushed the play button.

“Hi, Micah. This is your beautician, otherwise known as your best friend, Carole. It's good that you've patched things up with Rob, but don't forget you have other friends, other responsibilities. Call me sometime and, as the saying goes, ‘We'll do lunch.’”

The beep sounded, and another message began.
“Hello. Glad you're using the answering machine. It's seven forty-eight, Wednesday morning.” She smiled at his preciseness. “I didn't expect you to leave for school so early. The trial should be over in a day or two. Things are looking up. I'll let you know what happens. Bye.” Then a pause. “I miss you.”

“I miss you, too,” she whispered, placing a hand on the recorder.

The third and fourth calls were from salesmen suggesting she buy aluminum siding.

“For an apartment I rent? I don't think so,” she murmured, then rewound the tape and clicked off the machine.

“C'mon, kitty,” Micah called her furry companion to the front door. “Mrs. Poe will wonder where you've disappeared to,” she said, watching the cat scamper through the open doorway.

The clock showed a few minutes after six, so she turned on the television. The news, already in progress, showed an older, white-haired gentleman being interviewed as he stood on the courthouse steps. The face was not familiar, but the name that the reporter mentioned caught Micah's attention. Alsmore. Attorney Taylor Alsmore was the man on the screen. She turned up the volume to hear his words while he beamed about a victorious verdict in the murder trial that had concluded earlier that afternoon. Micah sat on the corner of the heavy old coffee table, never moving her eyes from the picture as Alsmore
glowed and raved about justice…about simply doing his job… and about the appropriateness of jury trials. Micah's mouth dropped open in surprise. The Gendersen trial had been in the news for the past two weeks, but Micah skipped over the articles and newscasts. She had followed one trial, word for word, years ago, and had determined never to do that again. But Rob had not mentioned that this was the trial he was so busy with. A murder trial. Of course, she could have taken more of an interest, asked more questions about his work. Micah turned off the television and stood staring into the darkening screen. Law, trials, courtrooms, attorneys. Why had she fallen in love with someone who was so involved in all of that?

Through her sandwich and potato chips and later through a hurried shower, she waited for his call. But it didn't come. By ten o'clock, she was in bed with a book in her hands that was quickly laid aside at the first ring of the telephone.

“Congratulations! You won,” Micah said as soon as she heard Rob's familiar hello.

“Thanks. You never know how things are going to turn out with a jury,” he replied.

“You didn't tell me it was the Gendersen trial, a murder case.”

“I don't usually want to discuss work when I'm with you, Micah.”

She smiled, and then tucking stray hair behind her
ear, she asked, “Did you see the news? Did you see Alsmore taking all the credit?”

“Alsmore is good at that. And he
is
the senior partner, you know.”

“But, Rob, it's not fair for him to get all the glory. How can you stand—”

“Honey, if I got upset about everything in this firm that I didn't agree with, I wouldn't be a very pleasant person to be around,” Rob replied. “Tell me how your day was.”

“My day? It was okay, but it couldn't compare to yours.”

He laughed. “I thought you didn't like courtroom drama?”

“I don't,” she answered gently, “but I'm proud of you. You should feel good about what you've done.”

“What I'd feel good about is seeing you. What are you doing?”

“I'm in bed, reading,” she responded.

Rob remained quiet for a moment, and Micah had the intuitive feeling that he had decided against saying whatever had crossed his mind.

“Tomorrow night?” he asked.

“Tomorrow is Thursday. I'm teaching two classes in the evening. How about Friday?”

“Friday? Is that the best we can do?”

“I'm afraid so. That is, unless you want to come over now for a while,” she offered.

He hesitated. “No, it's late, and I don't want to keep you from a good book.”

“It's not
that
good,” she answered, laughing softly.

“I'm sorry I couldn't call earlier, Micah, but I had clients waiting for me when I got back to the office.”

“You've been working too much,” she said out of what she knew to be selfish motives. She had wanted to be with him this evening and even now, to see him, talk to him, touch him. “Maybe you should have told them to come back tomorrow.”

“I wanted to.” The answer sounded firm, resolute. And Rob's voice sounded tired. “But their fifteen-year-old son had been picked up for breaking and entering. This family has three kids, all boys. The oldest one is the problem now, but the other two are headed down the same path soon.”

“Is there any way to help them?”

“I don't know, Micah. I'll do what I can with legal help, but what they need is some family counseling. And God. How could anyone expect to raise three children in today's world without God in their lives?”

Micah opened her mouth to respond but found herself speechless. She could hardly believe what she was hearing. Rob offering the Lord as a solution?

“I called Brian Andrews over at Third Avenue
Church. They just finished a building project over there, and they have a new gym.”

“I've heard about that,” she acknowledged quickly. Micah's heart soared with possibilities. She had always believed Rob would one day find his way back to God, but this was the best sign she'd seen yet.

“Brian is the youth pastor there. He was in that teen group I belonged to years ago. He said they have some open nights at the gym, and they're starting to organize basketball games. Maybe I can get this kid interested in something that will keep him out of trouble.”

“Did he agree to go?”

“If I go with him,” Rob answered. “And since you're busy tomorrow, I guess I'll be picking him up, by myself, at six o'clock.”

Micah chose her words carefully. “That's a start,” she said. For the teen and Rob, she considered. “Who knows? Maybe it will be fun.”

“Right.” Rob's tone was filled with skepticism. “I don't know how I get into these situations.”

“You're compassionate and very decisive,” Micah commented. “You see something that needs to be done, and you do it.”

“Right,” he growled. “And my impetuous tendencies get me into situations that I later regret.”

“You won't regret this, Rob. It could change this boy's life.” And Rob's, Micah added silently to herself. If only he'd let it. “See you Friday?”

“I'll be there at six.”

“I'll be waiting,” she responded, and there was silence between them.

“I miss you.” The gentleness in his voice brought a lump to her throat.

“Friday?” she repeated.

“Friday,” he replied quietly. “Good night, Micah.”

“Good night,” she said in a voice barely above a whisper. Closing the daily devotional book close at hand, she placed it on the floor beneath her bed and turned off the light. Friday seemed as far away as Rob did at that moment.

The hours at school the next morning seemed to drag by, and Micah needed something to break up the long stretch of time standing between her and Rob.

“I'm using my lunch period and break time to go downtown and pick up some supplies I need for class this afternoon,” Micah explained to Angela while preparing to exit the building. “I'll be back in less than an hour.”

That sunny Thursday afternoon was a lovely day in late April made even lovelier by the fact that her old station wagon started on the first try. It had given her very little trouble lately. Everything looked and felt wonderfully, beautifully right for once in her life.

She drove the short distance to the art supply store
in town and ran inside to pick up the craft sticks, poster board and other supplies she had ordered. Much more quickly than she had anticipated, she headed back in the direction of the school. Back to papers to grade, kids to control and more hours of waiting. The thirty extra minutes before her next class were like a breath of fresh air, but the hours until Friday seemed endless. She decided to surprise Rob with a visit.

Soon she pulled into the parking lot behind Alsmore, Barlett and Maine's office building. Rob would probably be at lunch. Her watch showed a quarter past twelve, but she would take the chance.

A trio of secretaries exited the building as Micah neared the front door. All were tall, willowy young women whom Micah eyed curiously. A blonde, a brunette and a redhead. Not the soft auburn of her own curly hair, Micah noticed, but a brassy red. Did they work with Rob? She had only been in his office once, and she couldn't recall seeing any of them.

“Hello. May I help you?” asked the friendly, pert young woman at the receptionist's desk as Micah entered the cool, air-conditioned suite of offices.

“Is Rob Granston in?” Maybe she had made a mistake in coming. What had seemed a good idea a few minutes ago, now felt like an intrusion.

“Yes, I believe he's still here. Your name, please?”

“Micah Shepherd.”

The receptionist disappeared into the office Micah
remembered entering the last time she had been here. Soon the woman reappeared in the doorway.

“You can go right in, Miss Shepherd.”

Micah stepped past the young lady into Rob's office, and the door clicked shut.

“Hello, Miss Shepherd,” Rob said as he rose from his chair and walked around the corner of his desk, his mouth slanting into a smile.

Her heart quickened its pace when he approached her, touching her only with his warm gaze. “Good afternoon,” she answered.

“You need to speak with an attorney?” The question was lightly stated, almost taunting, and his eyes flashed with amusement.

“With one in particular,” she replied in her most professional tone.

“And what is it you wish to speak with me about?” he asked, leaning near her and grazing her earlobe with a light, teasing kiss.

The faint aroma of his cologne filled her senses, and her desire to see him increased quickly to the need to touch. And so she did. First his shirt and then his tie, her fingers gliding along the edge, straightening it. She looked up at him through long, dark lashes. “Speaking isn't exactly what I had in mind,” she said softly, and rising on her tiptoe, she invited his kiss—a slow, tender meeting that clouded her thoughts and warmed her heart and soul. Micah's arms slid around his neck, her fingers weaving into soft, black hair, straight and fine. As Rob's
hands moved against her back, pulling her close, Micah could feel the hammering of his heart against her own, and the kiss went on and on until—

A buzzer rang, shattering the moment, and the receptionist's voice came over the intercom advising Rob of a call.

Micah buried her face in his shirt, muffling a laugh. But Rob was not laughing. He muttered something undistinguishable while reaching for the telephone on the desk beside them. “Take a message, Jackie. I'll return the call later.”

“But Mr. Alsmore wants you. He needs to review the Holcomb case with you. Could you take the file and meet him in his office in fifteen minutes?”

Micah raised a hand to her mouth to cover the light laughter. She turned away from Rob while he agreed to meet with his boss, then instructed the receptionist to hold his calls. Micah stood glancing over the framed diplomas displayed on one wall of Rob's office until he finished.

“Thank you, Jackie,” Rob concluded and glanced briefly through several manila folders stacked on his desk.

“Rob…this diploma…it's from Trinity,” Micah said.

“Uh-huh,” he confirmed without looking up. “Where did I put that Holcomb file?”

“You did your undergraduate work at a Christian college? Why didn't you tell me?”

“It didn't seem important enough to mention.
Here it is,” he commented, pulling out the folder he needed.

“It's important to me. I knew you were a Christian, but for how long?”

“Ten years.” Rob placed the Holcomb file on his chair. “Now, can we get back to what we were doing before we were so rudely interrupted?” He moved closer to Micah again, taking her in his arms easily, naturally.

“That's a long time, Rob. And after ten years, Nick died and that was it? You just stopped going to church? Stopped believing?”

“I think you're familiar with the term ‘backslide’?”

“But, Rob—"

He placed an index finger gently against her lips to silence her. “I believed for a while, and then, one day, I didn't.” Rob lowered his hand from her mouth to clasp her hand warmly in his own. Then he lightly kissed her frown. “You said you didn't come here to talk. Remember?”

“She can't hear us, can she?” Micah asked as she looked toward the intercom. “I mean, I thought we were alone, and then she started speaking.”

“We're alone,” he responded, “until you pick up the phone or someone opens the door.”

Micah slipped away, moving only inches from him, and adjusted her rumpled skirt and blouse. “It seems so funny, being in your office, kissing like
that with people just outside the door.” She motioned toward the entrance she had come through.

Rob touched her face gently as a trace of a smile crossed his lips. “It didn't seem funny to me, but maybe if we try again—”

“Someone might walk in,” she protested, but did not move away from his touch.

“Not without knocking, they won't. Common courtesy, Micah.”

“Common courtesy or a master plan devised to prevent interruptions of such displays of affection?” Micah teased. “Tell me, Counselor, are you accustomed to this type of behavior in this office?”