by Arlene James
He measured her with a sidelong glance. “How else do you expect to maintain a healthy relationship with God?”
In light of her recent thoughts, that rocked her back enough that she had to actually consider her answer. “There are other ways to maintain a healthy relationship with God.”
“Such as?”
“Well, reading the Bible, praying.”
“Do you? Regularly? Routinely?”
She tried, but invariably she let it slide or simply forgot. Too embarrassed to admit that, she said, “There are other ways to worship besides in church, you know. Haven’t you ever praised God in a quiet meadow or forest glade?”
“Sure. Are you telling me that you take a nature hike every Sunday morning to worship God?”
Anna bowed her head. “No, of course not, but there’s always the TV.”
“Televised services are a godsend for shut-ins and others who can’t travel to a church,” he conceded, “but for everyone else just getting up and getting to church is an act of worship in obedience. Don’t you think God values that?”
They reached the foot of the staircase before she had formulated a reply. It was an honest one; she couldn’t seem to find another. “Yes, but in my case I wouldn’t be worshiping. I’d be too aggravated by how much I had pleased my grandmother just by being there.”
Reeves bowed his head, pondering that. “So,” he said carefully, “she controls even your ability to worship God.”
Anna almost dropped where she stood. She caught hold of the curved mahogany railing to steady herself, her heart pounding painfully as his conclusion sank in. The deep breath that she sucked in hurt almost as much as the truth.
“I’ve never understood you,” he told her bluntly, not that it was anything she didn’t already know. His puzzlement furrowed his brow, and she quelled the urge to brush back his streaky brown hair. “When my parents split, they actually broke up my home. It was so hard, trying to live in two different places. God knows I never wanted that for my own daughter. You, on the other hand, always lived with your wealthy grandmother, who seemed to give you everything you needed.”
“Except approval,” Anna said.
He stood there for several seconds, before murmuring, “So you worked to earn her disapproval instead. And you still are.”
That stung, sharply enough to make her retort, “Which is why I’m so concerned for Gilli.”
His coppery eyes narrowed. “What do you mean?”
Determined to make him understand, she grasped his forearm with both hands. “In the beginning, rebellion may be just a way to get attention, but over time it can become…punishment for those who hurt o-or disappoint you. Worse, it gets to be a habit.”
She could almost see him replaying things in his mind and would have given her next breath to know what they were. She desperately wanted to make him see, for Gilli. And for herself.
After several moments, he nodded. “I get it. Yes.” To her absolute shock, he took her hands in his. “Thank you. Thank you for sharing that and for caring about my daughter,” he said, his molten copper gaze holding hers. “Thank you especially for spending time with her. It’s made a difference, all of it.”
Several heartbeats ticked by before Anna realized that she was standing there with her jaw flapping in the breeze. Snapping her mouth shut, she managed a nod.
Reeves tucked one of her hands into the curve of his arm and stepped off across the foyer. Somehow, she kept pace with him, despite feeling a step behind.
“I just have one more question,” he said companionably, drawing up in front of the yellow door. “How is that rebellion thing working for you nowadays?”
Bleakly, Anna realized what he was telling her, that she’d been stuck in that rut too long; yet, she couldn’t imagine how to get out of it. Any softening on her part would be seen by Tansy as a tacit admission of defeat. But wasn’t that the problem? This ongoing war of theirs had been at a stalemate for…how long now?
“Isn’t it time,” Reeves asked softly, “for you to start thinking about what is best for you instead of what makes your grandmother unhappy? They aren’t always mutually exclusive, you know.”
Anna blinked up at him. “When did you get so smart?” she whispered.
Reeves chuckled. “I could ask you the same thing. Taken us some time, though, hasn’t it?” He sighed. “Maybe we’re just a pair of slow learners, Anna.” He shook his head, one corner of his mouth crooking up. “Better late than never, though, huh?”
She smiled. “That’s what I hear.”
His smile matching hers, he reached for her hand and squeezed it. For one heart-stopping moment their gazes held, and she actually thought, wondered, hoped…He leaned forward slightly—and pressed a kiss to her forehead before dropping her hand and stepping back.
“Drive safely.”
“I—I will.”
He opened the door, and she stumbled through it, her head reeling. “Good night.”
“Good night.”
He waited until she moved across the porch and down the steps to her car before closing the door behind her. Anna stood in the dark, staring up at the big, silent house. It was, perhaps, the loneliest moment of her life.
Chapter Eight
Reeves had given her much to think about, and Anna did not shirk the task, going over and over in her mind all that had been said between them and much that had not. The guilt came unexpectedly. For the first time, Anna realized that she had allowed her anger at her grandmother to keep her from doing much that she should have done, even from worshiping God. She had been so fixated on her resentment of Tansy and her treasured independence that she had blocked out everything else. Or did it go deeper than that? Had she been secretly angry with God all this time?
Surely, He could have seen to it that one of her parents had been around to love her and make her feel wanted. He could have made her life a heaven on earth, if He’d wanted to. Except there was no such thing. Heaven was heaven. This life was…problematic. She wondered why that was. Suddenly she wondered about so much and was shocked by how few answers she seemed to have, despite a childhood spent in church. She knew, admitted, that she needed to be in God’s house, really be in God’s house, on a regular basis, but oh, how the idea of pleasing Tansy chafed.
Feeling uncharacteristically tentative and pensive, she went into work on Tuesday morning a bit late without even realizing it. Apparently, she was quieter than usual after the regular dressing down by Dennis, for Howard came to her corner to ask if she was okay.
“I’m fine. Didn’t sleep much last night, that’s all.”
“I hear you. Sometimes, for no reason at all, you just can’t shut it down.”
She nodded, pondered, and said, “Howard, you and Lois go to church.”
He stared at her for several moments through his too-large glasses. “That’s right.”
“Where exactly?”
He told her, then, “You looking for someplace to go, Anna?”
She sat there for a long time trying to nod, but finally she shook her head, knowing that she wouldn’t go anywhere but to Downtown Bible. She wished that was not the case, but she knew that it was. Downtown Bible Church was home even if she hadn’t attended a service there in years. “No, I just wondered.”
He stood there for a moment longer, then her phone rang, and he walked away. She lifted the receiver and cradled it between her ear and shoulder.
“Print Shop. This is Anna. How can I help you?”
Hypatia Chatam spoke to her from the other end of the line, asking that she drop by that evening. “It’s a minor thing, dear. We’ll discuss it when you get here, say, half past five?”
“Sure.”
“So good of you. We won’t keep you long. Have a blessed day.”
Anna hung up, wondering less what that was about than if she would see Reeves and Gilli. Just that she wondered made her queasy. She’d felt a slowly growing sense of unease since that moment after Gilli’s prayer, and it
was becoming more and more difficult to ignore.
Work became her cover. She crawled beneath it, buried herself with it, so that when the end of the day came she could only wonder where the time had gone. With equal parts dread and eagerness, she took her leave of Dennis and Harold and drove over to Chatam House.
Odelia came to the door wearing electric blue lace and stick people earrings, a pink female, a blue male. Anna looked at that little blue stickman and blurted out what was on her mind.
“Is Reeves here?”
She could’ve strangled herself.
“Not yet. He had to stop by his house for a word with his builder.”
“Ah.” Because she felt so deflated, Anna naturally acted pleased. “In that case, what can I do for you?”
“In here,” Odelia directed, waving her toward the front parlor.
Anna followed and was soon going through a box of forms, one pad of which had a smudge in one portion of the design. “I don’t know what that is,” she said. “It could be something as simple as someone bumping into the printer during the process. Ink, unfortunately, smears. But it’s not on any of the other pads. I’ll replace this one and make sure it doesn’t happen again.”
“Oh, no, dear,” Hypatia said, taking the offending pad from her hand. “It won’t be necessary to replace this. We just wanted to call your attention to the matter in case it could become a larger problem.”
“I don’t think that’s likely to happen.”
“Ah. Just what we wanted to hear.”
Anna smiled. Odelia asked how her day had gone.
“Oh, fine.”
Unusually chatty, Magnolia wanted to know what she had actually done, explaining, “We find your work so fascinating.”
Bemused, Anna gave her a brief overview of her day, if only to prove that nothing about it was fascinating. Hypatia offered her tea, which she declined, thinking it too close to the dinner hour. She noticed that Mags sent Odelia a troubled glance, but she didn’t think too much about that. What went on in the minds of these triplets one never knew. Though they were dear old things, they were each a bit of a trip.
She got up to go, saying, “I’ll see myself out.”
They gave each other helpless looks, then smiled and nodded. Partly mystified and partly amused, Anna strode out into foyer.
A movement in the shadows in the back of the hallway snagged her attention. Peering closely, she spied Gilli sitting with her back against the wall, her chin propped atop her drawn-up knees.
“Hello, there, goodest friend,” Anna ventured.
“Lo.”
Anna knew a sulk when she heard one. She ambled closer, studying the child who sat forlornly on the floor in the darkness of the shadows of dusk. “Something wrong?”
Gilli hitched up a shoulder in a shrug. Anna pinched the creases of her loose, olive-green slacks and slid down the wall to sit by the girl. She tugged her snug, cowl-necked ivory sweater into place and straightened the buckle of her wide brown belt, drawing up her knees so that the soles of her brown flats met the floor. Draping her forearms over her knees, she studied her companion.
“Want to tell me about it?”
Gilli shook her head. Anna tried another tack. Thinking of what Odelia had mentioned about Reeves meeting with his builder, she said, “I bet you’ll be glad to get back home.”
Gilli’s knees dropped like rocks. Slinging her hands as if to rid them of something unpleasant, she cried, “I don’t wanna go back there!”
Anna felt her brows leap upward. “No? Why not?”
“It’s better here,” Gilli insisted, folding her arms.
Anna let that settle, considering things from Gilli’s point of view. “More fun, I guess.”
Gilli shrugged again, muttering, “I don’t wanna go back and be by myself.”
“But you won’t be alone,” Anna pointed out. “Your daddy will be there with you.”
Gilli looked at her helplessly and began to cry. “I don’t wanna go back there. A nanny will come and Daddy will go to work.”
Anna slung an arm around her and hugged her to her side. “It’s all right. Your daddy won’t forget about you. He loves you.”
Sniffing, Gilli asked in a trembling voice, “How you know?”
For a moment, Anna was too taken aback to speak, but then she tried to answer in a way Gilli would understand. “Why, it’s obvious. He lives with you, doesn’t he? Lots of daddies don’t live with their kids, but he tucks you in at night and sees to it that you eat well and have pretty clothes. He teaches you to be polite and how to behave. He even prays with you and takes you to church. All in all, I’d say he’s a wonderful father, a wonderful man, even. Why, I wanted a daddy just like him when I was a girl, a daddy who would take me home to live with him.”
Gilli blinked at her, clearly shocked. “You didn’t live with your daddy?”
Anna shook her head. “Nope. Not my daddy or my mommy. I had to live with my grandmother.”
Gilli frowned, a troubled look on her face. Then she whispered, “My mommy went away.”
Anna beat back the tears that sprang to her eyes and tightened her arm about the child. “Some mommies,” she explained carefully, “do go away. It’s very sad, I know, but let me tell you something, Gilli Leland. I feel sorry for your mommy because she doesn’t get to see you every day. She doesn’t know what a bright, fun, beautiful girl you are.” She laid her check atop Gilli’s curly head, whispering, “If I had a little girl, I’d want her to be just like you.”
“Oh, there’s just one Gilli,” said a voice out of the darkness at the far end of the hall, startling them both.
“Daddy!”
Gilli sprang up and ran down the hall to meet him, giving Anna time to gather her composure and get to her own feet. “Hello, sugar,” she heard him say.
For one wild moment, Anna considered making a dash for the door, but then she heard him walking toward her. He materialized out of the deep shadow at the end of the hall, carrying Gilli on his hip, his tan overcoat hanging open over his suit. Her arms about his neck, Gilli hugged him tightly.
“Anna,” he said, his warm gaze sweeping over her.
“I—I didn’t hear you come in.”
“I know.” He smiled at her. “You’re looking very pretty today. I especially like the sweater.”
She gurgled out a “Thank you,” wondering just how long he’d been standing there in the shadows. She waved lamely toward the front door. “Gotta go.”
“No,” he said, “not yet. I need to speak to you. Just give me a minute.”
Anna meekly followed at a distance as Reeves carried his daughter to the stairs.
“Come here,” he said, standing her on the third step up from the floor. “I want to talk to you, too.”
He sat down, and Gilli sat down next to him, hunching her shoulders. “Anna’s right,” he said, sweeping a hand over her adorable curls. “You are a bright, fun, beautiful little girl, and I’m sorry if I’ve let you be lonely sometimes. I didn’t mean to. I hope you know that, because Anna’s right about something else. I love you very much, and I’ll never let you be lonely again, not ever.”
Blinking back tears, Anna covered her mouth with her hand. Gilli launched herself up onto her knees and threw her arms around his neck, squeezing tightly.
“I love you bery mush, too, Daddy.”
He laughed. Sort of. That was quite a chokehold she had on him. When she finally loosened her grip, he patted her and instructed, “Go tell our aunties that I’m home. Okay?”
“Yes, please,” she said, displaying her manners if not quite correctly.
Reeves pressed a finger to his lips, one hand holding her in place. “Excuse me,” he said solemnly. “Please go tell the aunties that I’m home.”
She popped up and bounced down the stairs, little legs pumping. “Okay! You’re welcome!”
“Thank you,” he said belatedly and shook his head, grinning. She disappeared into the drawing room, crying, “Daddy
’s home!”
Reeves sighed, but he didn’t get up right away. Instead, he beckoned to Anna. She moved toward him tentatively. He held out his hand, and she placed her own in it, allowing him to pull her down to sit next to him. He started to speak to her, but then he bowed his head and began to pray.
“Thank You, Lord. I see You answering my prayers. Every day You draw me a little closer to You and to my daughter, to the Christian father and man I want to be. Thank You. Thank You so much.” He sat for a moment longer, squeezing Anna’s hand so tightly that her fingers ached. Finally, he looked up, tears sparkling in his eyes. “Thank you, Anna. What you said back there means more to me than you know.” Then he slid his free hand into the hair at the back of her head and pulled her toward him, bringing her lips to his.
Stunned, Anna froze. Yet, somewhere in the back of her mind she was counting.
Thousand one, thousand two, thousand three, thousand four.
Those were perhaps the most wonderful four seconds of her life, and then it was over. Suddenly she was staring into his copper eyes, her heart hammering with painful hope. Gratitude, she reminded herself, jumping to her feet. Just gratitude. Nothing more.
“Uh, go,” she babbled. “I—I have to…” She gestured behind her.
He nodded, just once. Anna ran to grab her things from the table in the foyer, suddenly desperate to get out the door.
“Don’t,” she told herself, throwing on her coat and hurrying across the porch. “Don’t think it. Don’t dream it. Don’t even want it.”
But she did. Oh, she did.
Dennis printed the invitations to the gala auction on Monday morning. Anna examined each one by hand and found them perfect. She even crosschecked every name and address on the accompanying envelopes against the voluminous mailing list. All that remained was for the envelopes to be stuffed and dropped into the mail.
When Anna called to set a time for the delivery, she was a bit surprised to be told once again to come at the end of the day. She had expected to conduct an immediate transport, given the eagerness of the Chatam sisters to get their hands on the invitations. They had called several times during the past week to check on the progress, and she couldn’t blame them for being anxious. March had arrived the day before, not that the weather had changed one iota. It was, however, that much closer to the date of the fund-raiser.