Take a Chance on Me(73)
She believed that. Whoever Jensen had been, ever so briefly three years ago, he’d changed. He wasn’t the man who would steal another man’s wife. Wasn’t the man who would betray a friendship.
That kind of man didn’t work from dawn till midnight building his neighbor a wheelchair ramp or widening doorways or raising the table and lowering the bed. Didn’t set down his hammer for an hour to accompany her to an art festival.
How Claire wanted to return to the nightmare in town and erase it.
“I’m so sorry I got you into this, Jens.”
“It’s hardly your fault that Darek hates me.” Jensen didn’t turn from the railing. “I don’t know what I was thinking. I know better than that.”
“What, going into town?”
“Running the risk of being seen in public. Especially by Darek.”
She handed him a glass of lemonade. “That was my fault. I saw Tiger and missed him so much . . .”
“He looks so much like Felicity—those cute freckles, that nose. He has her eyes, too.”
She didn’t know what to make of that.
“The last time Darek and I got into a fistfight was the day I walked off the hotshot crew.”
“You never told me that.”
“It wasn’t a fight really. He got in my face about leaving, called me a coward—and it turned into something ugly.” He stared at his glass. “I didn’t even ask my father before I went—just took off right after graduation with Darek, dreaming of being a hero with him. My father tracked me down—literally got on a plane and found me. We’d just come off a month of training and fighting a fire in Idaho, and he appeared at the camp in Montana.” He shook his head. “I didn’t want to leave, but . . . but I didn’t have anything else. My mom had moved to California with her new husband, and maybe Darek was right—I was a coward.”
“You weren’t a coward—”
“I was. I should have stood up to my old man. But I bought right into the idea that I should be something more than Deep Haven. That I should be above it.”
“Then why did you come back every summer?”
He looked at her, then swallowed, looked away. “I had my reasons.”
Oh, right. Like Felicity. She could never dodge that subject.
“I think I was jealous of Darek living his dream, becoming a hotshot. And then, of course, he married Felicity.”
She sighed, desperate to change the topic. “Thank you for all your hard work on the house. I can’t wait until Grandpop sees it. He’s going to love it.”
Jensen took a sip of his lemonade. “Are you sure you’re up for this? Taking care of your grandfather will be a big job and—”
“Yes.” She didn’t mean for it to emerge so fast, but . . . “Yes. I am. It’s why I’m here.”
He nodded, studied his glass. “Of course. Your grandfather is lucky to have you.”
“I’m lucky to have him. I keep thinking about what would have happened to me if they hadn’t taken me in—if my parents had made me stay in Bosnia.”
“They should have stayed home for you,” he said, his voice shifting.
“I couldn’t ask them to do that. They were missionaries. Doctors.” She shook her head, trying not to hear the past. The moments she’d cried herself to sleep in her bed. Or her mother’s words: We have a job, a duty, to the Lord, Claire. You can’t ask us to betray God.
Which, of course, was why God hadn’t been talking to her. She’d betrayed Him with her accusations. Her doubt.
God isn’t kind.
She still couldn’t believe she’d said that out loud. She’d sat in her bed last night repenting of her words. Hating that deep down, yes, she felt that sometimes.
But she had to believe in a kind God, a God who cared. Otherwise life was out of control. Random. And no safety could be found in a random, chaotic world.
“You were more important. They should have come home.”
Oh. Silly tears pricked her eyes. She turned away.
True to form, Jensen rescued her. “You didn’t have to make dinner.”
Claire drew in a quick breath, found a smile. “It’s one of the things I do well. The pizza will be ready soon.”
He glanced at her, his gaze roaming over her face, those kind blue eyes that always made her aware of the woman she wished she could be. Beautiful, flirty like Felicity. Strong. Taking what she wanted from life, instead of letting it take her.
“From what I remember, you do everything well.”
She made a noise, something that resembled a laugh.
“What? You do. You made great grades in school. Weren’t you like number six in your class?”