Something to Believe In

by Kimberly Van Meter

  “Do you mean it?” he whispered, barely able to form the words, his joy was strangling his throat. “Please...don’t get my hopes up if you don’t.”

  She nodded. “I mean it. Your mother thinks we can salvage everything. She has a pretty good plan, actually.” She glanced at his mother with a grin. “She’s a smart lady.”

  He looked to his mother and sent a silent look of gratitude from his heart for fixing what he’d thought for sure he’d broken beyond repair. “If my mother thinks she can make everything work...I believe her. What do you need me to do?”

  “Yours is the easy part. Go find a ring, silly boy,” his mother said, moving forward to gently pull Lilah with her. “While we find a dress.”

  A ring. This was happening. A giddiness fit for a young boy on Christmas Day made him smile like a fool until one thought dimmed his happiness. “What about Dad?” he asked.

  “Darling, I’ve been managing your father for years. I think I can handle this. Go on, find your ring.”

  Justin grinned, all fear washing away. His mother was right; she’d always managed to get his father to see reason—eventually. He had no doubt she’d do it again.

  * * *

  LILAH STOOD IN AN IVORY GOWN of the softest silk as Lora fussed over her bouquet and Lindy—who’d flown in on a red-eye and had already downed enough caffeine to jolt a racehorse—was fiddling with the hem to ensure it didn’t trip Lilah as she walked down the aisle.

  “I can’t believe you’re beating both of us to the altar,” Lindy said, pins clenched between her teeth. “I thought for sure I was going to be the one to get married first.”

  “And divorced first,” Lora quipped, causing Lindy to glare. Lora laughed, adding, “I’m kidding, of course. That was before Gabe. Now you’re almost normal.”

  “Yeah? What about you?” Lindy challenged. “How long are you going to keep Heath on the hook without letting him make an honest woman of you? At least Gabe and I have a date now.”

  “You do?” both Lilah and Lora asked.

  Lindy took the pins from her mouth and smiled smugly. “Yep. The big date is April 15 of next year. I wanted a spring wedding so I could wear an off-the-shoulder dress.”

  “And I’m going to be the flower girl, of course,” Carys chimed in, carrying corsages for everyone. “Justin said he got these for all the ladies. Even me,” Carys added with a grin.

  Lilah smiled with all the serenity that she felt inside. She’d always imagined that on her wedding day she’d be a bundle of nerves and her stomach would no doubt keep her from enjoying the day, but that wasn’t the case at all.

  Her sisters were with her. Pops and Celly were waiting on the private beach where the ceremony was going to be held. And Justin was out there, waiting impatiently to slip his ring on her finger, proclaiming to the world that Lilah Bell had said yes.

  “Are you sure about this?” Lora asked when Lilah was all ready.

  More sure than anything in my life. She nodded. “I think I’ve spent a long time being afraid of commitment and responsibility because I was afraid of failing. I’ve learned that I’m stronger than I ever gave myself credit and I’m ready to stop being afraid. Justin is everything I never knew I wanted in a man and he’s helped me to see who I can be without fear.”

  “Well, that’s the winning combination it would seem. I think it takes a special man to see past all those defenses we seem to like to wall ourselves up with.” Lora smiled but added ruefully, “But politics? What about that?”

  Lilah shrugged. “It’s going to be an adventure. Whatever we do, we’ll do as partners.”

  “And...you’re going to move to New York?” Lindy asked, surprised but smiling with approval. “I never thought I’d see the day where you’d leave the island.”

  Lilah chuckled, seeing herself through her sister’s eyes. It was no wonder everyone had gone out of their way to protect her—she’d been too afraid to leave her comfort zone. Now she was excited at the prospect of starting fresh and seeing new places. “Well, we’re going to split our time. So I’m not exactly giving up my island time. An artist needs her inspiration, you know.”

  Outside the music began to play softly and her sisters squealed with excitement, herding Carys out and ushering Heath and Pops in to walk her down the aisle.

  With both men flanking her, she smiled and nodded. She was ready.

  For it all.

  “You’re as beautiful as your Grams, sugar bird,” Pops said in a rare moment of lucidity. Lilah’s heart contracted with pure love and she blinked back tears. Pops patted her hand as he folded it onto his arm. “Shall we?”

  “Yes,” she answered. Then she looked to Heath and said, “Don’t wait for my sister to pick a date because she never will. Her head is always stuck on business but she wants to marry you. Just kidnap her and put a ring on her finger. Soon. She’s ready, too.”

  Heath grinned, the corners of his eyes crinkling. “Lilah, I never knew you had the soul of a pirate. Kidnapping, indeed.”

  “Trust me.” Lilah winked and then focused on her own future with eyes trained on the man of her dreams. “Let’s do this. I’m done putting my life on hold.”

  With that first step onto the shifting white sand, Lilah tossed aside the fear she’d been hiding behind for too long and readied herself for the greatest adventure of her life as a wife, mother and best of all...as herself—a beautifully flawed and complex woman.

  EPILOGUE

  POPS DIED ON A HAZY September day, mere days before the twins arrived squalling their heads off at the indignant shock of entering the world with nothing but their skin.

  The family’s sadness at losing Pops was tempered by the arrival of the babies, which could only be described as a joyous event.

  Lilah and Justin decided to grace the babies with names that meant something so they named their daughter, Lana Marie—Lana after Lilah’s Grams and Marie, which was Virginia’s middle name as well—and their son, Jack Vernon, after Pops and Justin’s father.

  Lilah held Lana, while Justin cradled their son, both staring reverently at the fraternal twins as they enjoyed the first bit of quiet since they’d arrived early that morning. Celly, Lora, Heath, Carys and Lindy had returned to Lindy and Gabe’s New York apartment, exhausted after staying at the hospital for eighteen hours awaiting the babies, which gave Justin and Lilah a moment to themselves.

  Lilah marveled at the incredible softness of their skin, the intoxicating scent of their crowns as tufts of wild dark hair sprang in every direction.

  “Celly said the dark hair will go away,” Lilah said, gazing at her daughter’s perfect little face. “She said they will be blond because their eyebrows are light.”

  “They’re perfect,” Justin said, overcome with emotion. “I’ve never felt so... I can’t explain it. Instant love.”

  She smiled with understanding. She felt the same. But then tears filled her eyes as she thought of Pops. He had died peacefully in his sleep. Celly had been the one to find him, said she’d just known that something was wrong when he didn’t meet her for breakfast that day out on the patio as they had been doing as part of their routine. The doctor had said a massive heart attack had taken him. Likely, it’d been quick and he hadn’t suffered. Still, it was hard not to cry.

  Justin came over to her. “What’s wrong?” he asked, immediately concerned.

  “Nothing,” she said, wiping her eyes with her free hand. “I was just thin
king of Pops and wishing he’d been able to see the babies. He would’ve been tickled by the fact that we’d named the babies after him and Grams.”

  “It felt right,” he said solemnly. “Your Pops was a good man. I wish I could’ve known your Grams, too.”

  “She would’ve loved you,” Lilah stated with conviction. “She loved a man with a bit of a mischievous spark.”

  They continued to bond quietly with their newfound joys bundled tightly in swaddling blankets and when Lilah found herself sliding into a sad place, all she had to do was look at her life and take stock.

  Larimar was no longer in danger. The combined efforts of everyone had succeeded in putting the resort on more than firm footing. Once again, the resort had a healthy savings account, enough money to pay for the employees it needed, and Lora was in her element running the show with her husband, Heath. Heath had taken Lilah’s advice to heart and had simply put Lora on a boat to St. Thomas where he promptly married her and then they sailed around the British Virgin Islands for a quick honeymoon. Lora had returned with a giddy smile and a sparkler on her finger. Lindy was in the throes of planning a giant wedding and loving every minute of being the star. Not to mention, her theatrical work had landed her a top agent and several auditions for top directors in movies that did not require her to be naked. And Celly had sold her small house and moved into the main house at Larimar at Lora’s urging. She was as much a family member as anyone related by blood.

  Lilah closed her eyes and pictured Grams and Pops smiling down at their little brood, happy as clams that everything had worked out in the end—with only a few bumps in the road along the way.

  As for her, Lilah felt she was living the most incredible dream possible.

  True to her word, Virginia had worked magic turning Vernon around and creating a mystique about Lilah that shot interest in her work through the roof.

  For the first time in her life, Lilah was actually out-earning her sisters. Her paintings went for ungodly sums of money that continued to blow Lilah’s mind.

  And by the looks of it, Justin was going to win the race against his competitor by a landslide. His supporters believed in his vision for New York, his passion for making a difference. Justin made her proud every day and at night, they kept each other breathless.

  Yes, anytime she felt a hint of sadness creeping up on her, she simply did as she was doing now.

  Being thankful for everything and everyone in her life.

  To say she lived a blessed life...well, it was damn accurate.

  And she made no apologies.

  She deserved it.

  * * * * *

  Keep reading for an excerpt from The Spirit of Christmas by Liz Talley!

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  CHAPTER ONE

  MARY PAIGE GENTRY stepped into an icy puddle of water as she exited the taxi with not only one high-heeled shoe, but both of them.

  “Darn, darn, darn!” she said, trying to turn back to the driver without stepping into the cold water again. The cabbie raised bushy eyebrows and she tossed him a glare. “I assume you didn’t see that puddle when you pulled up?”

  He shrugged.

  “Yeah, right,” Mary Paige muttered, blowing out a breath that ruffled her bangs. “Just wait for me, okay?”

  She didn’t hang around for his response because, after the day she’d had, something had to go in her favor. She slammed the door and leaped to the curb, managing to clear the puddle she’d previously waded through. Having the cab wait for her would cost a small fortune, but she was way late to her uncle’s infamous Christmas kickoff bash, thanks to her boss, Ivan the Terrible.

  The frigid water seeped into the toes of her shoes as she walked toward the iron-barred glass door of the convenience store anchoring a corner in Fat City. Stupid, stupid! If she hadn’t let vanity rule, she’d be plodding around in her cute fleur-de-lis rubber boots with warm tootsies. But because the strappy high-heel, pseudo–Mary Janes had called her name that morning, she would risk frostbite for the remainder of the evening.

  Flashing neon signs hung garishly on the front of the store, bright cousins to the various cigarette ads, and from somewhere to her left, music bled onto the street. The door to the convenience store swooshed open, and she moved aside to avoid a woman who burst out, clutching a paper bag containing a fifth of something potent. Her elbow caught Mary Paige’s arm, but the woman didn’t even acknowledge the offense. She merely growled something about skinny blonde bitches and waddled down the block.

  “Really?” Mary Paige called after her, even as part of her relished the backhanded compliment since she’d spent the past two months doing Zumba and eating foam chips in an effort to fit into a size eight again. As she reached for the closing door handle, she heard a low moan to her right. Her hand paused in midair, hovering above the cold metal.

  Pulling her jacket closer to her chin and nuzzling into the cashmere scarf her ex-boyfriend had given her last Christmas, Mary Paige peered into the darkness beyond the blinking lights lining the eaves. At first, she saw nothing in the shadows, but then spied movement.

  She stepped toward the noise, her feet squishing in her wet shoes, her teeth starting to chatter. The light plink of sleet on her shoulders made her wonder if she was somewhere other than New Orleans. They rarely saw anything frozen—except daiquiris—so it had been quite the sensation when they’d gotten a blast of winter the day after Thanksgiving.

  Newspapers stirred and she made out the form of an elderly man wrapped in a thin blanket, moving among discarded boxes and newspapers quickly becoming sodden with the sleet.

  “Sir? You need some help?”

  The man stopped his rustling and flipped her the finger.

  “Guess that answers that question.”

  She turned around, ignoring the tug at her heart. Why didn’t he go to a shelter, anyway? Too cold out for someone to be sitting around with nothing more than a thin blanket. She glanced to the corner and found the cab still waiting. Good. A man who listened. An early Christmas miracle.

  She entered the warmth of the store, blew on her hands and scanned the cramped aisle. Nope, none of it would do. Bottled water, sanitary products and condoms. The necessities of life, sure, but nothing that would help her tonight.

  The second aisle proved as fruitless. Nothing but potato chips, cartons of cookies and packages of those powdery little doughnuts. Mary Paige’s stomach betrayed her with a growl as she eyed the pink snowballs. She shook her head and rounded the end cap, where she scanned the new offerings, methodically sweeping her gaze along the aisle, mentally discarding everything until… Bingo!

  Hanging innocently at the end of the aisle was the most repugnant pair of Christmas socks she’d ever seen. They were bright green with sparkly silver-tinsel trees around the ankles, adorned with bright cherry-red
pom-poms. The tops had garish silver lace that matched the flashy trees and small jingly bells. They were hideous and absolutely perfect for the white-elephant gift required for Uncle Fred’s crazy pre-Christmas party. Mary Paige snatched them as if they were the Holy Grail. Finally, something had gone right.

  She hurried toward the register, hating that she’d already taken too much time in this little stop, hating that the homeless curmudgeon outside the door weighed on her conscience. Yeah, he was a miserable old goat, but it was the beginning of the Christmas season, and it was colder than normal outside.

  Perhaps she should get him a little something to warm him up?

  A coffee bar sat to her right, featuring a self-service, instant cappuccino machine. Not the best, but certainly good enough. Mary Paige glanced at the register. Only one person in line. Surely five more minutes wouldn’t hurt. She spun toward the bar, snatched a medium-size cup, centered it beneath the spout and pushed the button. It filled quickly. She plopped a lid on and grabbed two sugar packs along with a stir stick.

  Darn. Two more people had joined the queue behind the woman paying.

  She got in line, shifting back and forth on her frozen feet trying to restore the circulation and wondering why she even bothered with an old bum outside a convenience store in the middle of Metairie. He’d probably hurl the cup at her and ruin her only decent jacket. Par for the course considering the day she’d had. A run in her stockings, a nervous stomach that had sent her to the bathroom twice, a coffee stain on her pristine white blouse and a tongue-lashing from Ivan the Terrible when the towering pile of receipts on her desk didn’t add up for their biggest client. She really wanted to go home and curl up in her ratty chenille robe with a glass of wine. Instead, fierce love for Uncle Fred sent her scurrying across the city in a cab she couldn’t afford, wearing shoes now frozen stiff.