James flipped slowly through the pages that chronicled forty-seven years of his life. Sometimes he smiled. Once or twice he wiped away a tear. Always he remembered and was grateful.
When Martha died, James thought this album was complete, but of course, it wasn’t. Nor should it be. Another chapter of the story was finished. That was all. Just a chapter. Not the book.
The two weeks since he’d arrived in Hart’s Crossing had proved that.
And today he’d discovered something new: James Scott was in love. Unexpectedly, completely in love with Stephanie Carlson Watson, his childhood sweetheart. After a fifty-two-year detour, his heart had returned to that first, innocent love of his youth.
Who would have imagined that was possible? Not James. His marriage to Martha had been a happy one. They’d had their ups and downs, of course. He and Martha had been known to fight with passion. They’d made up the same way. But love—or lack of it—had never been an issue. He’d never been tempted to be unfaithful. Never.
He toyed with that thought a moment. Was he being unfaithful to Martha by falling in love with Stephanie?
No, his heart answered with confidence. He even thought Martha would be pleased, were it possible for her to look down from heaven and see him today, because she’d been one of the most unselfish, truly giving people James had ever known.
Somehow he doubted his children, especially Jenna, would see it that way.
He closed the album, then covered his face with his hands, his elbows resting on his thighs.
Lord, I’m in love with Steph, and I want to spend what years I can with her. I’ve got the feeling that’s why you brought me back to Hart’s Crossing. So unless you show me otherwise, I’m going to ask her to marry me.
He ran his fingers through his gray hair.
And Lord, I haven’t proposed to a girl since I was a G.I. I was just a kid. This time, I’m going to need your help and lots of it.
Chapter 7
THE FIRST SUNDAY JAMES visited Hart’s Crossing Community Church, he’d come alone. He’d sat beside Stephanie because she was the first person he saw whom he knew. The next Sunday—the one following their night at the Apollo—he’d come alone but looked for her and only her.
This Sunday was a different story. He’d arranged to escort Stephanie to church, after which the two of them would drive to the resort located in the mountains north of Hart’s Crossing. At the Timber Creek Lodge, they would enjoy a sumptuous dinner prepared by a French chef of some renown.
What happened after that would be up to Stephanie.
James had a hard time concentrating on the sermon, and even singing one of his favorite hymns, “Rock of Ages,” didn’t help the nerves twisting in his belly. He was mightily relieved to hear the benediction spoken. He hoped Stephanie wouldn’t be prone to linger and visit.
She must have read his mind. While she was polite, nodding her head and saying good morning to this friend and that, she didn’t allow anyone to delay their departure. In short order, they were seated in James’s Buick and driving out of town.
Once they reached the highway and a cruising speed of fifty-five, James said, “I have some music CDs in the player. Instrumentals. No singing. Would you like to hear them?”
“That would be lovely.”
He pushed a button, and the soft sounds of stringed instruments came through the speakers.
James cleared his throat, feeling the need for conversation. “I was hoping your daughter would be in church this morning. I’ve wanted to meet her.”
“Miranda and her family attend the Baptist church over on Park Street. Didn’t I tell you that?”
Maybe she had. They’d talked about many things—their children, their grandchildren, his career, her hobbies, the Bible, sports, people they knew as children in Hart’s Crossing, and so much more.
“When Miranda got married, she wanted to establish a life separate from her father and me, and that included going to a different church. She feared that too many people would still think of her as Stephanie and Chuck’s daughter rather than as an adult. She wanted to make her own traditions and not feel as if she was still tied to her mother’s apron strings.” She paused briefly, then added, “Not that she was tied to them. Miranda was always fiercely independent, even as a toddler.”
“Sounds like my Jenna.” James laughed softly. “The word independent doesn’t begin to describe her. For a long time, her mother and I doubted she would give up her precious autonomy for a more traditional lifestyle of love and marriage. But when she was thirty-six, she met Ray, and she fell for him. Hard.” A lot like her dad at the age of seventy. “They were married just a few months later.”
“Love is a wonderful thing.”
James glanced quickly to his right, then back at the road. “Yes.”
“You and I were very blessed to find the partners we did.”
“Yes.”
“So few people have staying power these days.” She sighed. “At the first sign of trouble, they’re ready to pack their bags and look for someone else to make them happy. They forget that love is an act of will as well as an emotion.”
Music floated on the air as both driver and passenger became lost in thought.
* * *
As the Buick followed the highway into the mountains, twisting and weaving as it climbed to a higher elevation, the question James had asked at their first Sunday dinner replayed once again in Stephanie’s mind.
“Sometimes I wonder what would’ve happened to us if I hadn’t joined the army.”
They would have married, Stephanie answered silently. They would have married and had children and grown old together. But God had taken them in different directions. God had given them different partners to love and cherish, and that had been good and right.
But now? Now here they were, without Martha, without Chuck, still alive and still wanting to love and be loved. Was it possible that what might have been could happen yet?
James had kissed her on that Friday night, after all. And in these past weeks, they’d talked and talked and talked, in person and by telephone. They’d taken long walks together. They’d sat on his porch in the warmth of the afternoon while he read poetry aloud from a book with worn covers. They’d cooked for each other, and they’d eaten together at the diner. And they’d talked and talked and talked.
But was she reading more into all of it than was there? He hadn’t attempted to kiss her again. Perhaps he was just lonely after moving away from all his friends in Washington, from the home where he’d raised his family. That kiss, after all, had been on her cheek rather than the lips.
Goodness. Was she being a foolish old woman?
Chuck had teased her unmercifully about her romantic imagination and her fondness for three-hanky movies and novels. Was that what she was doing now? Letting her romantic imagination run wild?
Oh, dear.
“Look at all of that new development!” James exclaimed.
Pulled from her anxious thoughts, Stephanie looked at James instead of out the window.
“I had no idea things had changed this much up here,” he said. “Some of those homes are enormous. Who can afford mansions around here?”
“Californians. Movie stars.” Now Stephanie turned to gaze at the passing terrain and the elegant homes built along Timber Creek. “Most of these are vacation homes. The owners come here to ski in the winter or ride horses in the summer.”
“I had no idea.”
Stephanie wondered if he would be equally surprised to learn how her feelings for him had changed. Would it frighten him to know that she might care for him as more than a friend? That she might be…falling in love with him for the second time in her life?
Oh, dear. Oh, dear.
* * *
The dining room at the Timber Creek Lodge was large with high ceilings and an enormous stone fireplace as its focal point. Plate glass windows faced the main chair lift, and in the winter, diners could watch skiers and snowboarders
swooshing down the mountainside. But now, in early autumn, the mountains were free of snow. Instead of a blanket of white on the ground, the changing colors of the trees provided a visual smorgasbord of orange, yellow, and red.
Since this was the off-season for the resort, the dining room wasn’t busy when James and Stephanie arrived shortly after 12:30. The hostess led them to a table for two near the window. Their eyes were protected from the bright October sunshine by a wide awning.
“How beautiful,” Stephanie said as she sat on the chair James held for her.
He didn’t take his eyes off her. “Very beautiful.”
“Your server will be Brandilyn,” the hostess said. She set the menus on the table. “She’ll be right with you.”
“Thank you.” James sat on the chair opposite Stephanie.
She looked at him. “I haven’t been here in years. Thank you for bringing me. I’d forgotten what a lovely place this is.”
“You don’t ski anymore?”
“At my age?”
“You’re not too old to ski. I still go several times each winter.”
“I haven’t skied since high school. I never liked it much.”
“You didn’t?” He was genuinely surprised. “But you came up here with me a lot.”
“You’re right. I did.” A soft smile curved her mouth. “I guess it was the company that made it fun.”
Encouraged by her words, James decided he couldn’t wait until after they’d eaten. He had to say what he felt or burst. “I’ve always enjoyed the pleasure of your company. You know that.”
There was that attractive splash of pink in her cheeks again.
“Steph, I’d like—” He swallowed hard, took a quick breath, then began again. “I’d like to have the pleasure of your company for the rest of my days.”
Her eyes widened.
Lord, have I gone too fast? Did I make a mistake? Am I going to blow this?
He drew another breath and hurried on. “If I were a young man with what seems like all the time in the world, I’d wait to tell you what I’m feeling and thinking. I’d wait until I was certain what your answer would be. But I’m no longer young. Neither of us are. We both understand how quickly life rushes by.” He reached into his jacket pocket. “I love you, Steph Watson. I’ve lived long enough to understand what it is I’m feeling. I want to be with you for the rest of my life.” He pushed the small box across the table. “I love you, and I’m asking you to do me the honor of becoming my wife.”
“Oh, my,” she whispered.
Was that a good oh-my or a bad oh-my?
She opened the lid of the small white box. “Oh, James. I—”
“It was my mother’s ring. It’ll probably need to be resized. And if you prefer to have a wedding ring you pick out yourself, we can—”
“It’s a beautiful ring, James.” She sniffed softly. “Beautiful.”
“Steph, is there any chance you might—”
She looked up. “Yes.”
Yes, what?
“Yes, I’ll be your wife.” She brushed away tears with her knuckles. “I love you, too.”
He was afraid to believe she’d given the answer he wanted. “Are you sure? I mean, you don’t need some time to pray about it?”
“I’m sure.” She laughed through her tears. “I’ve been talking to the Lord about you for days.”
His spirits rose to new heights. “My kids will think we’re crazy. They’ll think we’re moving too fast.”
“So will Miranda.”
As if prompted by an unseen director, they leaned forward. Their lips met above the center of the table. The kiss might have lasted longer if their waitress hadn’t arrived, making a throat-clearing sound to get their attention.
Unabashed, James looked at the waitress and said, “Congratulate us, miss. This lovely woman has agreed to marry me.”
Chapter 8
From: “James Scott” [email protected]
Sent: Monday, October 10 6:10 AM
To: “Kurt & Neta” [email protected]; “Jenna & Ray” [email protected]; “Paula” [email protected]
Subject: Glad tidings
Dear Kurt & Neta, Jenna & Ray, Paula, and all my beloved grandchildren,
I’VE GOT SOME IMPORTANT news to share, and I hope you’ll rejoice with me. I’ve asked Stephanie Watson, a dear, dear friend from my boyhood, to be my wife, and she’s agreed. I could not be happier than I am today. As you know, few men are fortunate to find one woman who will love and cherish them, for better or worse, richer or poorer, in sickness and in health—and mean it! I’ve been blessed to have it happen twice.
I know you’ll think I’m rushing into this, but I assure you I haven’t lost my faculties. Steph and I are mature enough to know our feelings, and we understand what marriage means, having both had long and loving marriages that ended with the deaths of our spouses.
I hope you’ll also be reassured that we’ve prayed about this, before either of us knew what the other was feeling. I believe God brought me back to Hart’s Crossing (at least partly) so that I might have this blessing in my latter years. I am truly a happy, happy man.
We haven’t decided when the wedding will take place. By the end of October, we hope. Maybe early November. I know that isn’t much time. Only a few weeks to plan. It would mean the world to have all of you present, but I’ll understand if it isn’t possible because of work and school. However, I’d be glad to check airline schedules and so forth, and I can cover some of the cost of the airfare if that will help get you here. Between Stephanie’s home and my home, there is room for everybody, even if some would have to sleep on blow-up mattresses on the floor. Let me know if you can come.
I love you all,
Dad/Grandpa
* * *
From: “Jenna Scott-Kirkpatrick” [email protected]
Sent: Monday, October 10 5:50 PM
To: “Dad” [email protected]; “Kurt Scott” [email protected]; “Paula Scott” [email protected]
Subject: Re: Glad tidings
Daddy, you can’t be serious about marrying that woman this soon. You barely know her. Please, stop and consider what you are doing. I’m sure you’ll discover this is just loneliness. You never should have moved. That’s why you’re having a crisis now.
I’ll call you tomorrow. Please don’t do anything rash in the meantime.
Love, Jenna
* * *
From: “Kurt Scott” [email protected]
Sent: Monday, October 10 6:22 PM
To: “James Scott” [email protected]; “Jenna Scott-Kirkpatrick” [email protected]; “Paula Scott” [email protected]
Subject: Re: Glad tidings
Hi, Dad. I don’t know what to say. Are you sure you know what you’re doing? Of course, Neta and I just want your happiness, but this seems mighty quick for somebody who always considered things from every angle before making a decision.
Kurt
* * *
From: “Paula Scott” [email protected]
Sent: Monday, October 10 10:15 PM
To: “Dad” [email protected]; “Kurt” [email protected]; “Jenna” [email protected]
Subject: Re: Glad tidings
Oh, Dad. I’m thrilled for you. Forget what Kurt and Jenna said. You just go right ahead and be happy. When I get to work tomorrow, I’ll tell my supervisor that I need a week off at the end of October or first of November. You just let me know the date as quick as you can. I’ll try to use the frequent flyer miles I’ve saved up, but I may need some help with the tickets if there aren’t any frequent flyer seats to be had. One way or the other, you can count on the girls and me being there to celebrate with you and your bride. I can hardly wait to meet Stephanie. I know we’ll love her, because you wouldn’t love her if she wasn’t everything you say she is.
Love, Paula
* * *
Stephanie knocked on Miranda’s fro
nt door and waited for an answer. There was a part of her that wished her daughter and family were out for the evening. Lucky James. He’d sent his children an email to announce their engagement.
“I suppose I should call each one of them,” he’d told her, “but with their various work schedules and Jenna living overseas, this seems the better way.”
The door opened, revealing Miranda.
“Mom.” She paused. “This is a surprise.”
An unpleasant surprise, judging by Miranda’s tone. It was obvious her daughter hadn’t forgiven her for what she’d said during their last conversation.
“I was hoping we could talk,” Stephanie said.
“Sure. Come on in. I was just finishing the supper dishes.”
Miranda led the way into the kitchen. It was a large room with all the modern conveniences a person could imagine or wish for, designed for entertaining, although Miranda and Vince seldom entertained. For that matter, Miranda seldom cooked. She was the Schwan’s deliveryman’s best customer. Schwan’s and Pizza Hut.
Oh, dear. She was being so critical of her daughter.
Miranda went to the dishwasher and continued loading it. Stephanie didn’t wait for an invitation to sit on one of the kitchen chairs. It obviously wasn’t going to come.
Sinking onto the seat cushion, Stephanie said, “I’m sorry if I hurt your feelings the other day. That wasn’t my intent.”
Another plate clattered into place on the lower rack.
“Miranda, I know you spoke out of concern for me.”
“Yes, I did.” Her daughter placed several glasses in the top rack.
Stephanie drew a deep breath, praying for courage. “I hope we’ll be better able to handle what I have to tell you now.”
Her daughter straightened. There was a look of dread in her eyes, as if she already suspected what her mother would say.
“James asked me to marry him, and I accepted.”
“Mom!”
“I love him, Miranda. I want to be his wife.”
“How can you say that?”
Stephanie rose from her chair. “Loving James doesn’t mean I didn’t love your father, or that I don’t still love him. He was my husband for fifty years. Most of the memories of my past are tied to him.” She lifted a hand in supplication. “But honey, James is my future. I want to make new memories with him.”
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