Teapots & Tiaras: A sweet and clean Christian romance in London and Cambridge (Love In Store Book 5)

by Autumn Macarthur

Anita bit her lip, unsure what to do. “I want to see Portia, but in an emergency, I’ll just be in the way. It’s not like I’m family. I drove Beth here, that’s the only thing.”

  “James will make sure she gets home safely. Shall I text you to let you know how Portia is?”

  She nodded. “Please. Even if it’s late.”

  Before she could ask, he gave her directions for how to get to the main road to London. His thoughtfulness warmed her.

  “Drive carefully.” He smiled that heart-stopping smile, reached across, and brushed gentle fingers against her cheek, then turned and hurried toward the building without looking back.

  Her hand crept to her cheek, touching where he’d touched. She sat watching his straight-backed stride till he disappeared between the sliding doors.

  Dear Lord, help him to help Portia. And please, help me too. I’m falling in love with him!

  God didn’t reply.

  After a long drive through heavy traffic, she gratefully parked in the driveway at home. Daisy’s toys cluttered the lounge room floor, but no one was there.

  “Annie, is that you?” Dad called from the kitchen.

  She pushed the door open and hugged him, avoiding his wet hands.

  As always, a welcoming smile lit his sweet face. “Good to see you, pet. Your mum’s upstairs giving Daisy her bath. We didn’t expect you so early, thought you’d stay out longer with your friends.”

  “James’s mother was rushed to hospital. I’m waiting for a text to hear how she is.” Concern for Portia swept her.

  “I’ll pray for good news.” He closed his eyes and fell silent for a moment. “Talking of good news, we’ve had a message from the hospital. They’ll let us visit Jen on the weekend and take Daisy, too.”

  “Oh, that’s wonderful! She must be a lot better.” Confused emotions battled in her chest. She wanted Jen to be better, able to look after Daisy again. Of course she did. But a guilty little part of her so badly wanted Daisy for her own.

  Her own daughter. Someone who’d always love her and never leave her.

  “A little.” His shoulders slumped. “It will be a long way yet before they let her home.”

  “At least she’s improving. It’s definitely good news, Dad.” She picked up her handbag. “I’ll go see if Mum wants a hand with Daisy.”

  She hurried upstairs and followed the giggles and splashing to the bathroom. Daisy grinned and held out wet arms to be cuddled.

  “We’re just about done here. You can dry her off.” Mum pulled the bathplug and handed her a towel. “Did Dad tell you about Jen?”

  Anita smiled. “Yes, it’s fantastic news.”

  Even as she said the right words, her heart thudded and her chest felt oddly hollow. She’d fallen in love with Matthew, but she’d lose him when he returned to Africa. She loved Daisy, but she’d only ever be an auntie, helping care for her.

  It felt so selfish, but she wanted something or someone of her own. All she had were her shoes and Bagpuss.

  You need to let go. You cling to people and things, or you push them away so you won’t be hurt when you lose them. Trust that you’ll be given what is truly meant for you. When I said I came so that you could have life, and have it more abundantly, I didn’t mean more shoes.

  The whisper in her heart sounded clear as if it was spoken out loud. The truth of it echoed in her heart. All her life, since her birth mother abandoned her, she’d held on to things for comfort.

  As if God hadn’t just spoken right to her, she carefully wrapped Daisy in the towel and lifted her from the bath. “How’s our little princess today?”

  They giggled and played as she dried Daisy, dressed her in her nightclothes, and carried her to her cot. Before she could stop to think about it, she rushed to her room and grabbed a soft toy from the shelf. She cuddled the big pink and cream striped cat for a moment, then carried him through to Daisy and tucked them up together, kissing Daisy on the forehead.

  Daisy wrapped an arm around Bagpuss and snuggled him close. The way she’d probably done at the same age.

  “Bagpuss, Bagpuss, dear old saggy Catpuss.” Resting a hand on his head, she misquoted the line from the TV show, the way she’d done since she was scarcely older than Daisy. As she turned to switch off the light and leave the room, she ached like something was torn from her.

  Mum waited in the hall, eyes warm with concern, and touched her shoulder. “You’ve given Daisy Bagpuss? Are you sure?”

  She knew what the old toy cat meant.

  Anita nodded, though her heart clenched and tears stung her eyes. “I’ve held on to him too long. I’d like Daisy to have him now.”

  Her mobile phone beeped from her handbag, and she snatched it up. “James’s mother is in hospital,” she explained. “This might be Matthew, letting me know how she is.”

  Portia is bleeding internally. Having a blood transfusion. Stable, but may need surgery tomorrow. M

  She whispered a silent prayer. “He says she’s bleeding. It doesn’t sound good.”

  Mum enveloped her in a warm comforting embrace. “I’m so sorry, sweetheart. Please give Beth and James my love.”

  “I need to check with Beth, see how she is. I’ll probably need to help cover her section at work, so she can stay with Portia and James.”

  “Of course. Dad and I can manage with Daisy.” Mum stepped back and examined her. “Did you eat? Would you like me to get you anything?”

  Anita forced a smile. “I’m okay, Mum.”

  “How about I bring you up a hot chocolate and some Marmite toast?” she persisted.

  “Comfort food—the answer to every crisis.” Anita laughed. Mum would only worry about her if she refused. “Okay, thanks. That would be nice.”

  She emailed Beth, not expecting a reply in a hurry, but by the time Mum came back carrying her snack on a tray, she had an answer.

  Not a good one.

  Feeling numb inside, cold and empty and lifeless, she looked up from her phone.

  “Beth and James have asked their vicar to apply for a Special Licence so they can get married as soon as possible in the hospital chapel. Portia’s doctors have warned them that if they wait, she may not stay alive long enough to see the wedding.”

  Matthew had been right. They did need to rush the ceremony. Having Portia there with them was far more important than having the big white dress and the tiara holding her veil and the organist playing in the lovely old village church. She prayed they’d get the licence in time.

  But though she hated herself for having such a selfish thought, she couldn’t help remembering what Matthew said after lunch at Portia’s. Once James and Beth were married, there’d be no reason for them to see each other again.

  Was this what God meant when He told her she needed to let go? If she let go of too much, all she’d have left was Him. And she wasn’t sure her faith was strong enough for that.

  Chapter 14

  The air in the borrowed hospital office weighed heavy with anticipation as Matthew waited for Professor Donaldson’s answer. He even breathed a silent prayer.

  Anita’s habit must be catching. As unaccustomed peace seeped into his heart, he could see why.

  The professor set aside Portia’s medical notes with a soft thunk. “A challenging case, but since her internal bleeding has stopped, she meets our criteria. We’ll accept her.”

  Matthew loosed a long satisfied sigh and nodded. “Thank you.”

  Only three days after her admission, and he’d succeeded. The trial of a radical new treatment to limit the growth and spread of secondary tumours wouldn’t cure Portia’s cancer, but might give her more time. Weeks, months, possibly even years.

  It was in God’s hands now.

  His shoulders lifted as the load of responsibility and concern he’d carried lightened.

  “Subject to her signing the usual consents, of course,” Professor Donaldson said. “I see her oncologist has already agreed to her transferring into any suitable clinical trial.”
<
br />   Matthew grinned. “I’m sure she’ll be glad to sign. Would you like to consent her now?”

  The professor discussed the treatment as they walked through the busy ward to Portia’s private room. Pale and diminished even after four units of blood, she lay in the hospital bed, eyes closed.

  Anita sat beside her, holding her hand. She’d visited every day, quick trips after work. Her bent head suggested they were praying. The late-afternoon sun shining through the window lit her bright hair like a halo of flames.

  He hated to interrupt, but he’d brought Professor Donaldson up from London at the end of the consultant’s hospital workday. The busy man would not relish being kept waiting to get home.

  One quiet cough, and Anita’s eyes flew open. Her hands clasped under her chin, and she bit her lip.

  Portia’s gaze met his, almost painful hope pinching her face. He thanked God that he wouldn’t need to disappoint her.

  Professor Donaldson bustled over. “I have good news for you, Lady Tetherton-Hart. We’ll accept you onto the trial.”

  Both women beamed. Anita stood and gave Portia a quick hug.

  “I do need to explain what’s involved and go through the possible side effects,” he continued. “Your daughter can stay with you while we do that, if you wish, though here is our information package, so you’ll have everything in writing.” He placed a sheaf of papers on the tray table.

  Anita shook her head. “I’m not her daughter, just a friend.” She squeezed Portia’s hand. “I’ll wait outside. Would you like me to fetch James and Beth from their meeting with the chaplain?”

  Portia blinked up at the professor. “No, their meeting is important too. And I suspect Professor Donaldson is anxious to leave. It’s getting late.”

  “No hurry at all,” he said, then glanced at his watch and frowned. “Though I do have a train to catch.”

  “We won’t delay you.” Portia waved a smiling dismissal to Anita.

  Matthew held the door open for her. As she walked past him, she raised one hand and touched his where it lay on the door. “Thank you.”

  Her whisper and sweet, grateful smile swelled in his heart like a wave. All his defences against emotion and feeling crumbled. For the length of several heartbeats, he watched her walk down the hall.

  I hope You plan to tell me what You want me to do about this, Lord, because I have no idea.

  He shut the door.

  Getting Portia consented didn’t take long. He returned to her room after seeing the professor to a taxi.

  Joy and hope lit her wan face. “Thank you, Matthew, for not giving up on me. God is good, but He needs us to be His hands and feet in the world.” She grasped his hands warmly and gave them a gentle shake. “Thank you for being willing to do that.”

  His lips twisted, and he shrugged as he disentangled his hands from hers. He wouldn’t admit it to Portia, but he was lost and adrift as a rudderless boat, with no sense at all of what God wanted him to do.

  The Mission Trust terms were clear. If a Coalbrooke wasn’t in England heading things up, the two-hundred-year heritage of the Trust dissolved. And it appeared Mapateresi didn’t need him as much as he thought. No rise in death rates since the new doctor the Trust hired to take his place took over, and a jump in the numbers accepting Christ.

  Perhaps David was right, after all. His focus on saving lives without getting involved got in the way of saving souls.

  A blow to his Coalbrooke pride he’d need time to adjust to.

  All he said was, “Would you like me to fetch Anita for you?”

  “Please. Such a sweet girl. Try the chapel.” Did he imagine she flickered a wink his way? “I’m hoping the chaplain has some news about the wedding for James. He expected to hear from Canterbury today whether the Archbishop granted the special licence they need to bring things forward. Getting onto the trial gives me hope, but I’ll still be glad to see them married after waiting so long. Just in case the new treatment doesn’t work.”

  He patted her arm in a way he’d normally never do with a patient. “I’ll go find them all.”

  As he walked along the corridor, he checked his phone for emails. One from the School of Tropical Medicine, apologising for being last minute, asking if he could step in to teach a three-day course on Health Issues for Missionaries, since their usual doctor lecturer was ill with malaria. The packed curriculum covered everything from mosquitoes to microscopy.

  Something he could do and get satisfaction from doing. He emailed back that he needed to check his other commitments, but hoped he could help.

  If You want this to happen, show me how, Lord.

  He had one or two fundraising events lined up for next week, but if there was a clash, perhaps David would do them. If only he’d had time to ask her and arrange it, Anita might enjoy giving these talks. She’d do them well.

  She had no place in his old life in Africa, but a new life, here in England, seemed inescapably God’s will for him. The idea didn’t leave him with quite the bitter feeling it once did. Instead, his heart beat accelerated. Honesty compelled him to admit, the fact his plans included Anita might have something to do with it.

  Possibly staying in England wouldn’t be such a waste of his medical skills. He could arrange some part-time Accident and Emergency or GP sessions to keep up with the clinical side, too.…

  Anita, James, and Beth erupted out of the chapel doorway, laughing and talking. James grabbed his arm, grinning wide enough to break his face.

  “Anita told me you had good news about the trial. I have news, too. Beth and I are getting married tomorrow! Let’s plan how to make this wedding the best the hospital has ever seen, for Mother’s sake.”

  ~*~

  At two o’clock the next day, he waited at the front of the chapel with James and the chaplain, while a Vivaldi CD played quietly on the sound system. Although a long way from the grand church wedding Portia wanted for her son, with a real string quartet playing in the background, they’d transformed the plain multi-faith chapel.

  Anita took charge, directing preparations with military precision. They’d filled the front of the room with flowers. Decked the utilitarian plastic seats and the bare lectern with white ribbons and tulle. Set a table at the back with afternoon tea things and a small wedding cake. She’d even found a photographer.

  Now, it was time. Beside him, James audibly swallowed, hands shaking a little as he adjusted the jacket of his ill-fitting borrowed suit. “I’m fine,” he muttered, sounding as if he needed to reassure himself more than his best man.

  “Of course you are,” Matthew replied, clapping him on the shoulder.

  On one side of the aisle, Beth’s parents sat together, looking ill-at-ease and unsure what to do. This probably wasn’t how they’d imagined their daughter getting married.

  On the other side, Jack Hart, James’s American tycoon father sat stiff-backed, after flying in on the red-eye from Dallas. In a loveless marriage of convenience, he and Portia had lived in separate countries since producing a son, but never divorced.

  Was this truly what he wanted for his own marriage?

  Rumbling sounded from the corridor, and then two nurses from the ward wheeled Portia in on her hospital bed, the machine controlling her blood transfusion whirring on a IV pole. At her request, Daisy perched on the bed beside her, wide-eyed with excitement and clutching a huge, pink and cream striped toy cat.

  Hard to tell if the pink bed jacket Anita had brought over from Pettett and Mayfields as a mother of the bride gift, the blood transfusion, or excitement about the wedding added a new flush to the older woman’s cheeks. Suddenly, she didn’t look nearly as ill. She and James’s father smiled uncertainly at each other, but didn’t touch or kiss. He’d flown in for their son’s wedding, not for her illness.

  The chaplain cleared his throat, and the hospital candy striper at the sound system changed the CD. “The Wedding March” rang out triumphantly.

  Matthew inhaled a deep breath and checked he was
in position, feeling in his pocket for the wedding ring that James, always last minute, had rushed out to buy this morning. He nodded reassurance at the groom, and then faced the door.

  Beth stepped through it, tremulous and glowing, carrying a bunch of pink roses. Rather than a wedding dress, she wore a white, full-skirted summer dress. A low chuckle escaped him—she wore the tiara Anita considered so important. Somewhat incongruous with a knee-length dress, but amusing.

  Pacing slowly down the narrow aisle left beside Portia’s bed, wide enough for only one person, she fixed her eyes on James, oblivious to anyone else.

  The groom’s stooped posture straightened, and he stood tall and proud, a jubilant grin on his face. “My own sweet Beth,” he breathed, so quietly Matthew hardly heard him. “At last.”

  Hard to believe he’d once doubted this was a love match.

  Then Anita entered the chapel. Matthew didn’t notice what sort of dress she wore. Only that it was a bright sea blue, and she was back in her trademark high heels, turquoise today. Their colours faded in comparison to her radiant face, her luminous smile, her vibrant beauty. His heartbeat stuttered.

  Her gaze tangled with his, and her eyes widened. As she took Beth’s bouquet and positioned herself beside him, he heard her breath catch. Did his nearness affect her the same way hers did him?

  Beth’s father stood and stepped beside her to take her hand, solemnly passing it to James. The wedding service began.

  Quietly but firmly, Beth and James promised to love, honour, and cherish each other for the rest of their lives. Their love shone in their faces, rang in their sure voices as they repeated their vows, showed in the way they leaned toward each other as James slipped the ring onto her finger.

  This meant far more than the mere legal contract his grandfather insisted marriage was. This was a solemn dedication, each to the other, and a promise before God. It was about love, not the law.

  “I therefore proclaim that they are husband and wife. Those whom God has joined together let no one put asunder.” The chaplain surveyed the room jubilantly as he concluded the shortened service. “You may now kiss.”