“Yes, exactly. I’ll speak to Ryan. We really must be away by four, and don’t worry about getting back late. I have no trouble driving at night, and my sisters are a pair of night owls.”
Becca gaped. The Dallas Symphony Orchestra. Stravinsky’s “Firebird Suite.” Her whirling mind seized on one seemingly pertinent fact: “You’ve already bought the tickets?”
“You won’t believe what I had to go through to get them,” he confirmed with a laugh.
She didn’t know what to think or say. She did know that her grandmother was going to be very unhappy.
But for the first time, that seemed a surprisingly minor consideration.
The symphony! With Davis.
SIX
On Friday, Becca posted a sign on her classroom door directing all choral students to study hall—and Ryan Jefford promised he would make certain none of them skipped—leaving Becca free to leave school early and prepare for her “meeting” with Davis. She refused to think of it as a date and resolved to pay for her own ticket to the symphony, going so far as to declare to her disgruntled grandmother that this outing signified nothing more than the pastor’s desire to thank her for playing the piano for worship services at the Magnolia church. Grandma harrumphed about that and complained bitterly about being left in the care of twenty-one-year-old “infants.” Becca did not point out that she had only been eighteen when she’d become her grandmother’s caregiver. She did, however, dress to go out in the green velvet that she’d worn for the choral concert, twisting up her hair to leave tendrils curling about her face and neck, and even went so far as to trade her glasses for the contact lenses that she rarely bothered to wear.
Grandma Dorothy’s worried expression became querulous when Davis’s sleek black coupe pulled up at the side of the street, followed by an older sedan driven by one of the twins. She complained that his coupe looked too fast and the sedan too unreliable. The twins she deemed “flighty” before they even reached the door. Becca ignored it all. Caylie and Carlie breezed in with their usual exuberant humor, and Becca found herself whisked out on the charming assurances of their brother.
“You look spectacular,” he said, handing her down into his car.
Becca blushed and smiled for the next hour, while he rattled on about one thing or another. Eventually, however, they fell into a comfortable silence. He pulled over in Bowie to pick up a fast-food dinner for them, which they ate in the car.
“I apologize for this,” he said, folding back the wrapper of his hamburger, “but there isn’t time for more.”
“Oh, no, this is fine,” she protested. “I just wish you’d allow me to pay for mine.”
He chuckled at that. “Now, what kind of date would I be if I allowed you to pay your own way?”
“Date?”
“What else?”
Becca gulped and blurted, “But I’m older than you!”
He lifted both eyebrows at that, swallowing a bite of French fries. “Yes. And?”
“A-and I’m older than you!” she repeated, confused. “By five years.”
“Doesn’t seem so very much to me,” he said with a shrug. “My mother, after all, is eight years my father’s senior.”
Becca gaped, frozen, until he gently pointed out that she was about to drop mustard all over that lovely gown. Glancing down, she managed to catch the bright yellow glob with her napkin, despite the confused, excited whirl of her thoughts.
* * *
Davis smiled to himself. Poor darling. She really had no notion of how adorable she was or of how thoroughly besotted he found himself. He felt the same calm assurance about her as he did about his calling, and for that he praised God. Surely God would not allow her shyness or her grandmother’s fears to stand in their way. He supposed the meeting of the church elders tomorrow would settle at least the latter issue and prayed that he had not misjudged Becca’s own feelings. Meanwhile, the symphony lay ahead.
They accomplished the remainder of the drive in conversation borne of simple observance. Yet, he learned much. She liked a house with a red roof, but her favorite color was periwinkle blue. She’d never learned to drive a stick shift or ride a horse, and she longed for a less cluttered style of home than her grandmother kept. She envied her younger sister.
“But you’re much prettier,” he insisted, “and more talented, though she’s a very nice lady, I’m sure.”
Becca stared at him as if he’d grown a third eye in the center of his forehead before she frowned and said, “But Bethany is much more outgoing.”
He considered that and decided, “I suppose I don’t need another outgoing woman in my life. My family is full of them.”
Again, she stared, as if he were some sort of creature she’d never seen before. Uneasy, he sent up a silent prayer.
The Dallas traffic required all of his attention until they at last reached their destination. With only minutes to spare, they dashed into the impressive symphony center and found their seats. In the dark of the hall, they sat in silence as the concert began. The music enraptured them. So much so that Davis didn’t realize that he had been holding Becca’s hand until they stood up to applaud. He found he liked the sensation, and decided to casually drape his arm about her slender shoulders as they exited the theatre. They visited the gift shop and purchased a CD, then strolled arm in arm back to the car.
“I always have to praise God when I hear such incredible music,” Becca sighed.
“Now you know how I feel when I hear you sing,” Davis told her, pleased to see her eyes widen in response to his words.
He popped the CD into the player on the drive home, letting the music negate any need for conversation. By the time the CD ended, they were only a half hour or so from Eden. He looked over and smiled when he found that Becca had drifted off into a peaceful slumber. It was late when he pulled up beside her grandmother’s little house, but he sat for several minutes letting the engine idle as he watched her sleep, her head tucked into the corner between the headrest and the side window.
Please, Father, he silently prayed, I have only ever sought Your will, but I ask You to please make this sweet, gentle woman mine. Make me a joy and a blessing to her. Always.
* * *
Becca woke to whispered words and the warm, oddly familiar touch of a man’s hands cupping her face.
“We’re here, my darling. Our lovely evening is almost at an end.”
Memory flooded her. The glorious music, Davis holding her hand, his arm about her shoulders, telling her that the age difference meant nothing, that he valued best the very thing she had most decried about herself. She opened her eyes and then closed them again as his dark head bent toward hers and his lips tenderly sought her own. A moment later he pulled her into his arms, bending her head back with the pressure of his kiss and thrilling her to the very depth of her being.
That kiss carried her through their walk to her door, his sisters’ whispered report on their evening, their eventual parting and into the sweetest of dreams. It carried her even through her grandmother’s sullen complaints the next morning, all the way up to the moment when Davis arrived, unannounced, just after breakfast, to insist that they were all going on an outing.
“I won’t take no for an answer,” he said calmly, when Grandma objected. Pushing her chair to the door, he told a flustered Becca that they would of course have to take her van.
Grandma griped the whole way, from the door, down the ramp, onto the lift, into the locks in the floorboard of the van. Davis just winked at Becca, smiling broadly. To her own surprise, she asked only, “Where are we going?”
“Uh-uh. It’s a surprise, which means that I will need to drive.”
She handed over her keys and got into the passenger seat. Five minutes later the van turned into the drive of the Galter house.
Even Grandma shut up, settling for a disapproving glower as Davis pushed her chair up the ramp at the back of the place and into the now empty house. The twins rushed to greet them.
“Oh, Davis, it’s perfect!” one of them exclaimed.
“And,” Davis said, rolling Grandma’s chair forward through the roomy kitchen and into the dining room, “every door is wide enough.” He proved this by taking them all on a whirlwind tour of every big, elegant room. They wound up in the conservatory, a room with one entire wall of windows.
“Imagine the plants you can put in here,” one of the twins said. “You could literally bring the outdoors inside.” She bent to Grandma Dorothy and asked, “Wouldn’t you like that?”
Grandma’s chin began to tremble, and Becca feared an outburst, but before she could speak, Davis walked around Grandma’s chair and addressed her.
“Well, what do you think?” He glanced at Becca, adding, “She deserves better, of course, but it will make a grand home, won’t it?”
To Becca’s horror and confusion, Grandma began to cry. “I am not just to visit, am I?”
“Oh, no, no,” he said solemnly. “I’m counting on you to empty your house and help furnish the place.” He straightened, saying, “Although Becca, of course, will have the final word on all of it.”
The twins clapped, bouncing on their toes and beaming. “Isn’t it wonderful?” one of them exclaimed. “You and your grandmother will be so much more comfortable here.”
Becca could only shake her head and look to Davis, asking in astonishment, “Are you giving us this house?”
He took both of her hands in his. “In a manner of speaking, I suppose I am,” he said. “I just need you to answer one question for me. Will you marry me, Becca?”
She gaped. She could do nothing else. Shock drove an inarticulate sound from her.
“Would it help,” he asked, “to know that I love you most shamelessly?”
Becca gasped, and then she did the very last thing she expected herself to do: she threw herself, laughing, into the arms of the man of her dreams.
Becca knew then, in her heart of hearts, that she would never again fear performing in public, for she would always play and sing in gratitude to a sublimely good and generous God, with the full support of her loving husband.
* * * * *
We hope you enjoyed this Harlequin Love Inspired Suspense story.
You enjoy a dash of danger. Love Inspired Suspense stories feature strong heroes and heroines whose faith is central in solving mysteries and saving lives.
Visit Harlequin.com to find your next great read.
We like you—why not like us on Facebook: Facebook.com/HarlequinBooks
Follow us on Twitter: Twitter.com/HarlequinBooks
Read our blog for all the latest news on our authors and books: HarlequinBlog.com
Subscribe to our newsletter for special offers, new releases, and more!
Harlequin.com/newsletters
ISBN: 9781459230989
THREAT OF DARKNESS
Copyright © 2012 by Harlequin Books S.A.
The publisher acknowledges the copyright holders of the individual books as follows:
THREAT OF DARKNESS
Copyright © 2012 by Valerie Whisenand
SMALL-TOWN ROMANCE
Copyright © 2008 by Harlequin Books S.A.
All rights reserved. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of publisher, Harlequin Enterprises Limited, 225 Duncan Mill Road, Don Mills, Ontario, Canada M3B 3K9.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental. This edition published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.
® and ™ are trademarks of the publisher. Trademarks indicated with ® are registered in the United States Patent and Trademark Office, the Canadian Trade Marks Office and in other countries.
www.Harlequin.com
Threat of Darkness Page 22