A Love Surrendered

by Julie Lessman

  “How nice,” Faith said.

  “Yes, it is.” Annie hesitated. “Except for this uneasy feeling I shouldn’t go.”

  “Why? It’s just dinner, right?”

  “Yes.”

  “Well, then, I think you should just go, enjoy yourself, and then go home.”

  “You do?”

  “Sure. But if there’s a check in your spirit, we can pray about it. When that happens to me, I just pray for wisdom, close my eyes, and think about each option. Now, you have to be really seeking to follow God’s leading rather than your own, mind you, but if you are, one of the options will usually give you more peace than the other. And that’s the one I generally choose.”

  “Really?”

  “Really.” Faith smiled.

  With a giggle of relief, Annie gave Faith a hug. “Perfect! Thank you so much.” She smiled, eyes warm with admiration. “How’d you get so smart anyway?”

  A chuckle rumbled from Faith’s lips. “Well, actually, God’s the smart one because his Word tells us how to live in order to reap blessing, and I was lucky enough to learn that early. So when I applied his precepts to my life—things like praying for people who hurt me or staying pure in my relationship with Collin before we married—well, blessings overtook me. Before long, it became a lifestyle of the heart, giving me a wisdom about life I never had before.”

  Annie sighed, hope springing in her chest. “Oh, Faith, I want that more than anything!”

  Faith grinned. “Then I have the perfect prayer for you—a prayer I’ve prayed daily for years. But a word of warning, Annie,” she said with a hint of mischief. “Don’t pray it unless you’re prepared for God to answer, because he will.”

  “What is it?” Annie breathed, adrenaline surging.

  “Psalm 139:23–24. ‘Search me, O God, and know my heart. Try me and know my thoughts. See if there be any wicked way in me, and lead me in the way everlasting.’ ” She squeezed Annie’s hand. “But don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

  Just the sound of Faith’s words triggered Annie’s pulse. Oh yes, God, please!

  “Annie? Are you ready? Glory is waiting in the car with Frailey.”

  Annie glanced up to see Aunt Eleanor in the doorway, a smile on her face.

  “Miss Martin, so nice to see you again,” Faith said, rising. “We’re just finishing up.” She turned to Annie. “All except a date to take the girls to story time. How does this Saturday sound? Ten o’clock at Bookends, followed by cookie baking at my mother’s house? Fair warning—you’ll meet my sisters and their kids, which may be more than you bargained for.”

  Annie laughed. “Wouldn’t dare miss it—Glory would wring my neck.” Looping her purse over her shoulder, she joined her aunt at the door. “Good night, Faith. See you Saturday.” Her lips tipped in a sassy grin. “And if ‘you know who’ is ‘cranky,’ I hope he’s asleep.”

  ———

  Not likely, Faith thought with a wave and slow burn of her cheeks, recalling the gleam in Collin’s eyes when he’d kissed her goodbye after dinner. A warm shiver traveled her bones. The same gleam he’d worn for the last six months in his quest for a son.

  “You best come straight home tonight, Mrs. McGuire,” he’d whispered, his voice husky with warning. Hooking her close, his teeth had nipped at her earlobe, lips wandering her neck until she’d been as limp as the spaghetti she’d fixed for dinner. Without question, Collin McGuire had been her “mush-maker” since the fifth grade when he’d defended her from a bully on the playground, and a day didn’t go by she didn’t thank God for this man in her life.

  Her eyes drifted closed as she gently caressed her abdomen, cherishing the seed of his child that grew in her womb. A child her husband didn’t know about yet, but could very well be the son whom he craved. Taking a deep breath, she discreetly let out two more notches of her belt, grateful she’d moved the buttons on her skirt. She sighed, warmth invading her chest at how elated he’d be after five years of trying. Guilt niggled. That is . . . if he knew.

  “I’ll tell him, Lord,” she whispered, slipping her sweater over her shoulders, “soon.” Turning out the lights, she hurried down the hall and out the door, mind in turmoil over the news she needed to share with her husband. She was almost in her fourth month now, but she’d kept it from him because she was afraid. Afraid to dash Collin’s hopes if something went wrong.

  And afraid he’d forbid you to teach this class?

  Her brisk pace down the street slowed considerably. Maybe a little, she conceded, but that wasn’t all. Collin was such an emotional man, she couldn’t bear to see the hurt in his eyes if she miscarried. Shame wormed its way in over how desperately she’d wanted to teach this class . . . and to continue to do so.

  Especially now. For the first time since her copywriter job at the Boston Herald before Bella was born, she felt alive again, someone who contributed to the world outside of being a mother. She quickened her pace, thoughts of her daughters plucking her heart. Not that she didn’t love being a mom. No, it was the most important job in her life. But now that the girls would all be in school, Faith needed more than an empty house to clean. She understood Katie and Charity more than ever before, Katie wanting to be a lawyer and Charity longing to work at the store. But like Luke and Mitch, Collin felt a woman’s place was in the home, which was fine, she thought with a twist of her lips. If the poor woman wasn’t stuck in an empty house eight hours a day.

  Eyes fixed on the stoplight at the curb, she tapped her toe impatiently while she waited for the light to change, debating when to tell Collin his child was on the way. Next week? The week after? The light turned green, and she darted across, realizing it would have to be soon. Palming a hand to her stomach, she felt the burgeoning mound. “Soon, God,” she promised.

  She scampered up the steps of the tiny brownstone she and Collin called home, gaze darting to the second story where their bedroom window was dark. A ridge creased her brow. Goodness, he’s asleep already? She eased the knob of the front door, letting herself in as quietly as possible, thankful Collin had left the parlor light on. Locking it again, she moved to turn off the light and stopped. There sprawled on the gold brocade sofa was her husband, sound asleep with feet bare and a newspaper bunched on his chest. Love swelled in her throat, and she tiptoed to where he lay, heart thudding as always when she could watch him unobserved.

  Hands down, Collin McGuire was the most handsome man she’d ever met, never failing to trigger her pulse whenever he entered a room. Chestnut hair rumpled from sleep fell over eyes that boasted the longest lashes she had ever seen. Her gaze wandered from a chiseled face shadowed by a day’s growth of beard down muscular arms relaxed in sleep, and a rush of emotion filled her till tears pricked her eyes. God, I never tire of thanking you for the gift of this man. Bending over, she pressed a soft kiss to his cheek, and then squealed when she tumbled on top of him after he hooked an arm to her waist. “Collin McGuire, you scared me to death!” Smacking his chest, she squirmed to break free.

  “Serves you right for keeping your husband waiting,” he groused, burying his lips in her hair. “Apparently I didn’t make my intentions clear when you left tonight, Mrs. McGuire, so let me rectify that right now.” In one fluid motion, he had her flipped on her back with a mischievous glint in his eye. “You owe me, Little Bit,” he whispered, “make no mistake.” Her breath caught when he nuzzled her throat. “Three baths . . .” His lips trailed to her collarbone. “Four bedtime stories . . .” Warm palms fondled her shoulders while stray fingers teased along the collar of her blouse. “And six piggyback rides’ worth, to be exact.” He took her mouth with a vengeance, trapping a soft moan in her throat before his lips wandered south.

  “Collin, you’ll wake the girls,” she breathed, giggles rising at the tickle of his beard.

  Gaze shuttered, he pinned her with both a wicked look and possessive hands while that slow smile she loved went to work. “Not if you succumb peacefully, Mrs. McGuire.”

  A s
queak caught in her throat when he swept her up in his arms. “What on earth . . .”

  He strode to the staircase, a man on a mission. “Did you lock the door?” he asked.

  “Yes, but my purse is on the floor by the—”

  “Leave it,” he ordered. “Not foremost on my mind right now.” Huffing on the landing, he eyed her with a quirk of his brow. “Either I need to ramp it up at the gym, Little Bit, or you and Abby have been snacking on too many cookies.” He repositioned her with a grunt and proceeded down the hall, butting their bedroom door closed before placing her on the bed. “You may be eating more cookies,” he said with a roguish smile, “but it’s going in all the right places.”

  He crawled in beside her and she giggled, slapping his hands away. “Collin McGuire, will you please show some restraint? I need to get ready for bed.”

  She started to get up and he rolled her back, kissing her soundly. “Sorry, Little Bit, but I used all my restraint when we were engaged.”

  Batting his hands away, she shimmied free and popped to her feet, tossing an impish smile over her shoulder. “Absence makes the heart grow fonder, my love, so hold that thought.”

  He lumbered to his feet, his tone a near growl. “Any fonder, Little Bit, and you’re going to see a grown man cry.” Following her into the bathroom, he snatched his toothbrush and squeezed a curl of toothpaste to brush behind her in the mirror. “You’re definitely the civilized one in this family, Faith, just shy of prim and proper.” Lips sloped in a wry smile, he lifted a lock of her hair to plant a foamy kiss scented with peppermint, and she gave a little squeal.

  “I’ll show you civilized,” she said with a mock glare. She pinched a glob of toothpaste on her hand and lunged, slashing him with a clump of cream that oozed down his neck.

  Eyes circled in shock, he stared, toothbrush limp in his mouth. Slamming it in the sink, he grinned, capturing her from behind. “So you want to play dirty, do you?” he whispered. And with a playful flick of his tongue, he murmured hot words in her ear, their intent disarming as much as his actions. Hands skilled at lovemaking traveled her body with a gentle caress, and her eyes drifted closed while heat shimmered her skin. Oh, Collin . . .

  All tease faded away at the warmth of his touch. “I love you, Faith,” he said quietly, his voice husky and low, “and I’ve been craving you since you walked out that door.” Sweeping her hair aside, he grazed the curve of her neck with his lips, unleashing a soft moan from her throat. Renegade hands roamed to her waist where gentle fingers tugged her blouse from her skirt. The warmth of his palm slid to her stomach and stopped . . . His eyes met hers in the mirror, and she swallowed hard as the truth dawned in their depths. “Your stomach is usually flat, Little Bit . . . ,” he whispered, a muscle shifting in his throat. “Are you . . . is it possible . . . could you be pregnant?”

  Tears welled in her eyes and she nodded.

  “Oh, Faith . . .” Swallowing her in his arms, he began to laugh, the sound tender and reverent and mixed with his tears. With trembling hand, he gently palmed her stomach again, his silent heaves shuddering against her back. “Oh, God, thank you, thank you,” he said softly, the intensity of his emotion vibrating against her hair. “We’ll gladly take whatever you send, but oh, Lord, my soul longs for a son . . .”

  Turning her to face him, he cupped her cheeks in his hands, nuzzling her lips with such tenderness that tears spilled from her eyes. “I love you, Faith, more than anything in this world.” He clutched her close, his breath warm in her ear. “When?” he whispered.

  Her heart stalled. “I . . . haven’t been to the doctor yet, so I’m not certain.”

  He pulled back, his face that of a little boy at Christmas. “Your best guess, then. February? March? Come on, Faith, I’m gonna be a father again—give me something to go on.”

  She worried her lip, heart thudding against her ribs. With a hard gulp, she slowly raised her eyes to his. “After Thanksgiving,” she said quietly.

  Silence. The drip of the faucet sounded deafening as Collin stared, mouth open and jaw slack. The joy that glimmered in his eyes before glinted into a hard veneer beneath dark brows dipped thunderously low. “Thanksgiving?” he repeated, the shock of his tone embedding her guilt even deeper. He stepped back, eyes scanning her body as he was often prone to do, but this time, his desire seemed as cold as the porcelain sink digging into her back. “You’ve been pregnant for three months or more . . . and you didn’t tell me?”

  Her body chilled to ice, except for the heat in her face. “Collin, I didn’t want to get your hopes up if something happened,” she said quickly, circling his waist. “I wanted to make sure.”

  His gray eyes narrowed to slits of pewter, and a muscle cramped in her stomach when he moved farther away. “You mean ‘make sure’ you can teach your all-important class, don’t you?”

  Her breath caught. The truth of his statement hit dead on, her words to Annie sealing her guilt. “It’s the rule of love God is so partial to—let no one seek his own but that of the other.”

  Taut muscles in his face eased almost imperceptibly when the dark slash of brows sloped into hurt. Oh, Collin, forgive me! She struggled to talk, but her tongue was as thick as the paste on her hand. “You’re right,” she whispered. “I was being selfish and putting myself before you.” She looked up, tears burning her eyes over what she had done. “Will you forgive me, please?”

  The lines of his face softened a degree, but the damage she’d caused still darkened his eyes. “You deceived me, Faith. That’s my baby as well as yours, and I had a right to know.”

  She stepped forward, fingers shaking when she twined them with his, his hand cold and still. With a heavy heart, she moved in close, arms to his waist and head to his chest. Eyes shut, she breathed in his scent—musk and soap and the sweet hint of talcum powder he used on the girls. She heard the beat of his heart, steady and strong, a heart that beat fiercely for her, his family, and the God they all served. Fingers clenched, she dug into the rigid muscles of his back, her voice a grieved whisper. “Will you forgive me?”

  He exhaled and she realized she’d been holding her breath. “I forgive you, Faith, but I’m hurt. We promised to tell each other everything.”

  “I know.” She stood on tiptoe to brush her lips to his, well aware his arms remained slack for a man with a one-track mind when it came to his wife.

  He held her away, his cool look chilling her skin. “Forgiven, Faith, but not forgotten. You knew how much this baby would mean to me, yet you withheld it. It’s going to take some time for my anger to cool.” He released her abruptly, the absence of his touch leaving her bereft. Reaching for his toothbrush, he rinsed it off and put it back before shoving past her.

  Her heart tripped. Clutching his sleeve, she begged with her eyes. “Collin, please, don’t do this! Our love has produced a child—can’t we embrace that?” Desperate for reconciliation, she clutched him close, resorting to Charity’s tactics with a hand grazing his thigh. “Collin, please—make love to me,” she whispered.

  With an unnatural calm, he quietly removed her hand from his leg, his look as icy as his touch. “I’m sorry, Faith, but I’m just not ready.” He turned to go, taking her heart with him.

  Sagging against the sink, she put a hand to her eyes and wept. A man of unbridled passion, Collin had seldom turned her away in over thirteen years of marriage, and Faith mourned the loss of his touch. With a swipe of tears, she plucked a tissue from the box on the commode and blew her nose before brushing her teeth and washing her face. She slipped out of her clothes, donned her silk nightgown, and turned out the light, silent in the dark as she slid into bed. Collin lay on his side, his bare back a muscled wall. More tears pricked and she curled into a ball on her edge of the bed, silent prayers soft on her tongue. Lord, this isn’t how I’d hoped to celebrate the news of our child. But if Collin needed time to heal, then she’d give it, no matter the hurt in her heart. Long moments of heavy silence passed and she drew in a deep breath
, finally willing to risk his rejection with a stroke of his shoulder. “I love you, Collin—”

  She froze when he gripped her hand, the intensity in his tone stealing her air. “Don’t ever, ever do this again, Faith,” he whispered, turning to face her. “Keeping something from me that I have a right to know. Do you understand?”

  Chest heaving, she nodded, his face a mere blur through a curtain of tears.

  “That’s my son or daughter in there,” he whispered in pain, his voice and hands softening with a skim of her stomach, cradling it before his arms cradled her. The clock ticked away the precious moments as he held her, her gratitude filling the silence until he finally pressed a kiss to her hair. Easing her back on the bed, his eyes fused to hers while his hand caressed her belly as if it were the very child in her womb. In slow and deliberate motion, he leaned in, fondling her mouth with a kiss so exquisitely tender, she quivered beneath his touch. “We’re one flesh, Faith,” he breathed. “My seed, your womb, God’s blessing.” He kissed her again, slowly, reverently, fingers tucked to her chin while his thumb trailed her jaw. “We need to talk tomorrow about the prospect of you teaching, but for now—tonight—” He swept her hair back from her face with a solemn gaze and a gentle hand. “Tonight,” he said quietly, eyes moist and his whisper brimming with awe, “I’d like to celebrate the hope of a son.”

  “Last one to the tree is it!” Gabe tore out of Faith’s mother’s back door, a blur of freckles and curls flying in the breeze, coaxing a smile to Annie’s face. Faith’s foster sister reminded her a lot of a grown-up Glory—smart, tough, and a bit of the dickens.

  Annie sighed. Just one day with Faith’s family and already they’d become as big a blessing to Glory as Faith had become to her. The smell of fresh-mown grass drifted into the cheery kitchen, merging with the aroma of warm sugar cookies. A contented sigh parted from Annie’s lips as she tied Glory’s shoe, the feeling of family as sweet as the smudge of icing across her sister’s cheek.