Twice Blessed

by Sharon Gillenwater

  “Play in the snow?”

  “That, too.” He grinned, wishing mightily that his kinfolk and all the neighbors weren’t watching them. And that he didn’t have the dregs of a cold. It wouldn’t be wise to kiss her yet, even if they didn’t have an audience.

  Releasing her, Ty picked up the snowman’s head and carried it to the base.

  “Uncle Ty, you need to get his tummy, too.” Ellie pointed to the middle ball, which was almost as big as the bottom one. “We can’t lift it.”

  “I’m not sure I can, either.” Ty rolled it back to where Mr. Snowman was taking shape, hefting it in place. “Now, the head. I bet you, Brad and Camille can pick it up.”

  Working as a team, the three put the snowman’s head into place, shrieking and laughing when it almost rolled off. Camille quickly righted it and pushed it down more firmly. “Mr. Snowman has no neck.”

  “Never saw one that did.” Ty gathered up a couple of thin mesquite limbs for arms, while the others made a face, using buttons for the eyes and mouth and a rather shriveled carrot for its nose.

  Jessie handed Brad his old hat, letting him do the honors of crowning Mr. Snowman. She gave Ellie a pair of old gloves to put on the ends of the sticks for hands. Handing Camille a long wool scarf, she smiled. “The finishing touch.”

  Ty laughed as Camille draped it around the snowman. “Isn’t that Cade’s?”

  Jessie grinned impishly. “Must be. I found it in the drawer, and it’s not mine.”

  They all stood back to admire their handiwork. Ty thought it was better than most.

  “My first snowman,” murmured Camille.

  “My second.” Ellie beamed with pride, then looked up at Camille with a frown. “You never made a snowman before?”

  “I’ve never even seen snow before. I lived in New Orleans and San Antonio. It was always too warm.”

  “Then this is a special treat.” Jessie rested her hands on the children’s shoulders. “How about some hot chocolate?”

  “Yes, ma’am,” said Brad. “I’m kinda cold.”

  “Me, too.” Ellie pretended to shiver and almost fell down. “I’m real cold.”

  “Camille? Ty? Would you like to come in for some chocolate or maybe some coffee?”

  “None for me,” said Ty with a shake of his head. “I need to get on down to the store.”

  “Thanks for the offer, but I need to get to work, too.” Camille smiled at Jessie and the children. “Thank you for showing me how much fun it is to build a snowman.”

  “You can help us again next time.” Brad smiled shyly.

  “I’d be delighted to.”

  Ty offered her his arm. “Better hold on to me in case I lose my footing.”

  “It isn’t bad if you walk carefully.” She curled her arm around his, gripping his forearm lightly. “I don’t think it’s as slick as the mud was.”

  They walked down the street, admiring the snow and laughing at some lads having a snowball fight. Though the temperature hovered in the twenties, Ty barely felt the cold. “Did you have a chance to look at your new Bible?”

  “I spent a good part of Saturday afternoon reading it. I started with the psalm you wrote in the dedication.” Tenderness softened her eyes. “You pointed me in a good direction.”

  “I was hoping you’d think so.”

  “I’ve read several psalms and some of the proverbs, too. I’m ready to start chapter fourteen of John.” A frown creased her forehead. “But I don’t think I’m going to like the rest of it. Jesus’ enemies are plotting against Him, and Judas is going to betray Him. Jesus told him to do what he had to do quickly and sent him off.” She stopped, her grip tightening on Ty’s arm as she looked at him. “Why did He have to die?”

  “To save us from our sins so that one day we can stand before God, unblemished and pure. We could never be good enough on our own to do that. God didn’t make us perfect. He didn’t want millions of puppets worshiping Him. He wants us to love Him by our own choice, a true and honest love.

  “Man is naturally a sinful creature. We give in to our own desires and emotions and are tempted and led astray by Satan. There is no way we can redeem ourselves from sin. We all deserve punishment. So God sent Jesus, His only son, to take our place, to be the atonement or sacrifice for our sin. He took our punishment for us, so that we have eternal life in heaven.”

  “So all we have to do is believe in Him? Believe that Jesus died for us? Then we’ll be saved?”

  “Yes. Though it needs to be a personal thing, not just a general acceptance that He died for the whole world. He gave His life for me…and you. It’s the realization and acceptance that He loves you as much as He does anyone else. We have to make an honest commitment, too. We can’t just accept the fact that Jesus died for us, say thank you very much and not try to live as He wants us to.” His ears were getting cold, so he pressed her hand against his side and took a step, silently asking her to start moving again.

  She didn’t hesitate, but her grip remained tight on his arm. “How do you know how He wants us to live?”

  “It’s in the Good Book, too. After you give your heart to Christ, He sends the Holy Spirit to guide and comfort you. It’s similar to your conscience guiding you, only better.” He noted her frown. “It’s a lot to try to take in all at once.”

  “Yes, it is.” Her expression relaxed. “I asked God to show me His ways and to teach me, so I suppose He’ll do it.”

  “He will. Unlike us, God never lies.” Ty thought he saw her wince, but he wasn’t sure. Maybe it was time to shift the conversation to another subject. “Do you have a busy day ahead of you?”

  “Yes. I’m going to take the ads around so our customers can approve the final layouts. That should take the rest of the morning. Then I’m going to hit up a few people about revamping their advertising.” She glanced at him with a twinkle in her eye. “Starting with you.”

  “Me? There’s nothing wrong with my ad.”

  “No there isn’t. But how long have you run the same one?”

  “I don’t know. Months, I suppose.”

  “So the people who have lived here a while probably don’t even look at it. You need to do something to catch their attention, bring them into the store to buy things they didn’t even know they needed.”

  Ty laughed at the way she said it, but her suggestion intrigued him. “I hadn’t thought about it that way. And here I considered myself a good businessman.”

  She patted him on the arm. “You are a good businessman. But that’s why you need me—to give you a fresh look at things.”

  “You certainly do that.” He drew her to a halt before they stepped past a building onto Main Street. Brushing a strand of hair back from her cheek, he captured her gaze. “I’m beginning to realize that’s only one of many reasons I need you.”

  Chapter Eighteen

  Curled up in bed that night, quilts pulled up to her chin, Camille wondered how she’d made it through the day without a mistake. Her mind had drifted at the most inopportune moments, such as when the grocer was pointing out a change he wanted in his ad. He had been patient with her, but as she was leaving she overheard his muttered comment that she must be in love.

  Was she? In the same way she once would have sized up the opponents around a poker table, she considered the feelings and emotions Ty evoked in her. Her heart soared whenever she saw him, sometimes merely at the thought of him. He made her smile and laugh. He made her think about what she wanted out of life.

  “How would I feel if I left Willow Grove? If I left Ty?” That was the real question. The answer was swift and sure, bringing tears to her eyes at the mere thought. It would break my heart. She took a deep breath, releasing it slowly, swiping away the tears. “I’m in love.”

  Equally important, he seemed to be falling in love with her. Could it possibly work? Common sense told her it wouldn’t. What would he do if others found out about her past? He probably would support her if there was talk about the gambling, point ou
t that she had put that behind her and started a new life. Most of the people in Willow Grove seemed to respect her and approved of her job at the paper and what she had done there.

  But if she told him about Anthony, would Ty feel the same? He was a kind man, but he didn’t like liars. For all his goodness, he was a proud man. Given some of the things he had said about Amanda’s character and high morals, she didn’t think he would simply forgive and accept Camille’s past transgressions. His wife had been a paragon of virtue, without fault or blemish. Could anyone truly be so pure?

  “Of course not,” she murmured. “Ty even said so himself.” Yet he had Amanda on such a high pedestal he had forgotten any faults she might have had. “How can anyone—especially me—measure up to her?”

  Her gaze fell upon the Bible lying on the table beside the bed. Amanda had been a strong Christian. If Camille believed also, would that make her more worthy of Ty? Maybe. But if she put her trust in Jesus for that reason, it would be false.

  She thought about some of the things she had read, things that God had been teaching her through His word. “God, I do believe that Jesus is Your only Son and that He died for the sins of the world.”

  Then she heard a noise downstairs. Listening carefully, she decided Nola was up. She grabbed her robe and slid her feet into her slippers, hurrying down to check on her friend. Nola was in the living room, adding some wood to the fire. “Are you all right?”

  “Couldn’t sleep. This weather makes these old bones ache.” Nola eased into a rocking chair close to the stove. “Sorry I woke you.”

  “I hadn’t gone to sleep.” Camille pulled another chair closer to the fire and sat down. She glanced at the mantel clock. Almost midnight. She’d been up since six. No wonder she was tired.

  “Too cold in your room?”

  “It’s nice and warm under the quilts.” She touched the tip of her nose. “I think I need a mitten for my nose.”

  Nola laughed. “Maybe I can teach you to knit one. Don’t think I ever tried to make a nose warmer. Used to make nice wool socks. But that was a long time ago.” The older lady studied her for a minute. “What’s keeping you awake, child? Is it Ty?”

  “Partly.” Camille smiled. “I tend to think of him too much.”

  “Did you two have a spat? Is that the real reason he didn’t come to dinner?”

  “No.” Just the opposite. “He needed to go home and rest. He looked tired. I’m afraid he overdid it today.”

  “He’s tough. A good rest will set him straight again. It’s good to hear that you’re getting along. Does my heart good to see him happy again.” Nola rocked back and forth. “So what’s troubling you?”

  “Jesus.”

  “Calling to you, is He?”

  Camille hadn’t considered it in that way. “I suppose He is.”

  “You’re seeking and He’s calling. Sounds like a good combination to me. Do you believe in Him? In what the scripture says about Him?”

  “Yes.” She hesitated. “For the most part. I believe He is God’s only Son and that He died to save people from their sin.”

  “He didn’t just die. He came back to life.”

  Camille stared at her. “He did?”

  “Haven’t gotten to that part yet?”

  “No. I haven’t been able to bring myself to read about His death. Only where He says it’s going to happen.”

  “Well, after you read about that, finish up John. It talks about him appearing to His disciples again. Each of the gospels tells about different episodes. It helps to read them all. If you read the last few chapters in each book, where it talks about the resurrection, it will give you a better understanding of what happened. The main thing to remember, dear, is that He loves you.”

  “I know the Bible says He does. But it’s hard to believe.” Camille lowered her gaze, her heart pounding in her chest. “I’ve done things I shouldn’t have.”

  “We all have, dear. Still do for that matter. Just this morning I had to ask God to forgive me for wishing Grace Montgomery would fall on her backside in the snow. Preferably on Main Street in front of half the town.”

  Camille laughed and felt herself relax. “She can be annoying.”

  “That’s putting it politely.” She paused as if gathering her thoughts. “My point is that God loves me even though I had hateful thoughts about Grace. I’m sure He didn’t approve of them, but I’m also sure that when I asked Him to forgive me, He did. Because He loves me. Scripture says that if we confess our sins to Him, He is faithful and just to forgive us and to cleanse us from unrighteousness. Doesn’t matter if it’s the first time you go to him or the umpteenth. You go on upstairs and ask Him if He loves you.”

  Camille tensed again. “Ask Him? He’s supposed to answer? Out loud?” The thought scared her half to death.

  “He will answer in whatever way suits Him. I haven’t heard of anybody lately that He spoke to out loud.” Nola laid her hand on her heart. “When He gives you the answer, you’ll know it in here.”

  Camille stood and kissed Nola on the forehead. “Thank you for listening and for your advice.”

  “Got over seventy years worth of advice stored up.” Nola chuckled and patted her hand. “I don’t hesitate to give it, either.”

  “To everyone’s benefit. Are you warm enough?”

  “I’m fine. I’m going to sit here and think about my Henry for a while. Remember how we used to sit by the fire on cold winter nights, me mending or knitting and him reading to me.” When she looked up, moisture glistened in her eyes. “That memory is easier to handle than lying in a cold, lonely bed without my man next to me.” She caught hold of Camille’s hand. “Hang on to Ty. Don’t spend your life alone.”

  Camille gently squeezed her frail hand. “We’ll have to see what happens.”

  “What happens will be a wedding if you encourage that boy. It’s as plain as day that you’re both in love.”

  “Well, whatever it is, it’s certainly distracting.”

  Nola’s wrinkled face brightened with a smile. “And fun to watch. I saw the glow in his eyes the first time he mentioned you. Now, get to bed. Mornin’ will come much too early as it is.”

  Camille obeyed, but when she crawled into bed and pulled the covers up around her, she didn’t ask God if He loved her. Her discussion with Nola had been somewhat reassuring, but she simply couldn’t bring herself to do it. She’d never considered herself a coward, but she was in this. And in telling Ty about Anthony.

  “I’m too tired now. Maybe we can talk about it tomorrow.” Yawning, she mentally shook her head at her silliness for expecting God to talk to her. He hadn’t even talked directly to Mary or Joseph. He’d sent an angel to speak to them.

  But God wasn’t to be put off.

  Camille dreamed she was standing in the doorway of the White Buffalo Saloon. She wore a bright red dress that revealed far more bosom than any of her own dresses. The hem of the full skirt hit her at the knee, scandalously displaying her legs and several layers of petticoats. It was unlike anything she had ever worn.

  It was late at night, and the streets were quiet. A man stepped out of the shadows across from her and walked forward, stopping in the middle of the street. He was dressed in a long white robe, like the one Jesus wore in a picture in Nola’s big Bible. A light surrounded Him, and kindness and love shone in His face.

  Jesus.

  He nodded and smiled, holding out His hand. She started toward Him, but suddenly Anthony stood between them.

  Her ex-lover’s sneering gaze raked over her. “What do you think you’re doing? God doesn’t want anything to do with you. You’re too wicked, too sinful.”

  Camille knew she was unworthy. Her fear of the Lord’s rejection halted her. Yet, how her heart ached to know His grace and love! She stretched first one way, then the other, trying to see past Anthony. Though she couldn’t see Jesus, the light still illuminated the darkness. But wait…was it growing dimmer?

  “My Lord, don’t leave me
. I need You.”

  Instantly, Jesus stood in front of her. He again held out His hand. When she took hold of it, He smiled. Oh, that smile! Filled with love and forgiveness, its radiance washed over her, cleansing her from the inside out. Her vulgar red dress was transformed into a beautiful gown of white, long sleeves and high collar of the finest lace, the skirt flowing across the dirt street without a single spot or stain.

  Jesus stepped to one side, pointing behind Him. “Do you see your sin?”

  Camille searched for Anthony, but she could see nothing beyond the light of Jesus’ love. “No. Your glory hides it.”

  “I have taken it away. It is no more.” He turned her around toward the saloon. It, too, had vanished. “I love you.”

  Camille awoke with a start. Heart pounding, she sat up in bed, tears pouring down her cheeks. She should have been freezing, but she felt surrounded in warmth, cloaked in the love of Jesus.

  “God, You do love me,” she whispered, her heart overflowing in gratitude and awe. “Thank You.” Some of the things that Nola and Ty had shared with her came to mind. “Lord, You know what’s in my heart right now, but I’m going to say it anyway. I don’t think I could keep it inside even if I wanted to. I believe Jesus is Your Son and that He died for me. For me. Oh, thank You, Lord. What a priceless gift!

  “Please, Lord, just as You did in that beautiful dream, forgive me of my sins. Forgive me for all the times I gambled and for living with Anthony.” She swallowed the lump in her throat. “Forgive me for being his mistress, for having sex with him.” There, she’d said it in the plainest way she could.

  “Help me to do what is right. Help me to live the way You want me to. Teach me Your ways. Help me always to put my trust in You. As the Bible says, abide in me and let me abide in You.”

  She wiped her cheeks on the edge of the sheet and snuggled down beneath the heavy layer of quilts. Closing her eyes, she was surprised by an unexpected yawn. How could she possibly sleep when her heart was so full of joy? She wanted to stay awake, to bask in the love of Jesus and the freedom of forgiveness. Instead, sleep slowly overtook her.