Whispers of the Heart
Page 37
“You just sit down here, young lady,” Maime admonished. “Eight months pregnant means you stay put, you hear me!”
“I hear you,” she acquiesced. Warmed by the concern, Erika gratefully fell back onto the cushioned chase lounge and closed her eyes.
Twins, the doctor had said. It feels more like triplets, she winced, as one of her babies kicked her kidney. Shifting slightly to relieve the pressure, Erika immediately smiled as she heard the high-pitched voice of her son, Matthew, and his father coming up from the Lake.
“Mommy,” the three-year-old yelled. “Look what I got,” he said proudly producing a slimy, dripping lake trout over her bare legs. “Daddy helped me catch him! Isn’t he yucky!”
Erika tried to sit up and take proper notice of the 8-inch fish when T.J. came running up the steps.
“You never fail to amaze me,” he said while planting a tender kiss on her forehead.
“Why is that?” she asked squeamishly.
“Because even eight months pregnant, you are the most beautiful woman in the world to me,” he finished with a twinkle in his eye. “Even when you turn green at the sight of a slimy fish.”
“You two go and wash up,” Maime yelled from the French doors. “Grandma will be here shortly and she will not want you tracking in all that lake dirt! And Matthew,” she continued as he apprehensively glanced her way, “bring me that fish, I’m cooking it up for dinner!”
At Matthew’s delighted expression, Erika again reveled in the startling resemblance of her son to his father. And she couldn’t help but remember a long-ago story about a little boy named Timmy and his first fish. She then gazed up into the eyes of her husband and true love and knew immediately he was remembering the same.
Erika rose gracefully, even in her condition, and walked toward the deck’s edge. She watched as the boats crisscrossed the lake, listened to the buzzing sound of jet skis, and the cries of water skiers toppled by their wake.
How content she was. How … fulfilled. Her family was well on its way, and she now had many memories of family gatherings and holidays. She could work from home on new designs for Capital Textiles, remain involved on the board of Crawford Industries, and most importantly create a home for her husband and her children.
A smile warmed her face as Erika recalled their wedding, which took place shortly before leaving Priest Lake in late January. A minister that had known T.J. and his family for many years had conducted the winter ceremony. The family had gathered as well as the entire lake community to witness the emotional joining of two people beautifully in love.
She would never forget being greeted at the end of the aisle by Harry. At the time, his eyesight hadn’t much improved, but his outlook on life had. For the first time in years, he had a familial relationship with his daughter and her family. They had accompanied him and promised to return the following summer. And they had … every year. And slowly, Harry’s eyesight had indeed failed. But before it was completely gone, he had intricately carved for Erika the most precious Nativity Scene she had ever seen. Proudly it rested on her mantel … year around.
And in her mind’s eye, she remembered the trip to London and its unbelievable outcome. A whole story she would have to write someday for her children.
Shortly after Erika’s wedding, her Uncle Lawrence had announced his plan to wed as well. He had married his long-time secretary, Earlene, on a wind-swept cliff overlooking the city of Los Angeles. A first marriage for them both left them deliriously happy. What doting grandparents they had become to little Matthew.
And only very rarely … on October nights … when the wind swept around a corner of their home just right, Erika remembered Steve Caslin, her former fiancé and her former assistant Ellie. What a grievous error in her judgment. Yet oddly enough, she was grateful to them on such nights. For through their deception, T.J. and Erika overcame their obstacles and created for themselves … a perfect life.
Author’s Note
Dear Friends,
When Whispers of the Heart was first birthed in my imagination, I knew it could only happen in one place … Priest Lake, Idaho. And yes … it is a real place. A wonderful, fresh, exhilarating place where the air is so fresh it almost hurts, where the sky is so unique, its hue and richness is indelibly imprinted in your memory, where the lake is so crystal clear … its breath-taking and awe-inspiring. It is this place … this wonderful place close to the Canadian border where my family always spent some of each summer.
I will always remember sitting on the edge of a battered dock, swishing my feet through the cool waters, gazing into a transparent lake and watching the tiny fish gather at its edge. It was there I would dream … dream of big things and small. It was where the sun would bake into my skin and I would reconcile those youthful romances and dream of new ones. A place I would eventually plan my own wedding and wait for my child to be born. It is a place very near to my heart.
I want to thank my family for always making family time and vacations a priority. For giving their children time to just be children. Thank you for Priest Lake … a place that always seemed to stay the same when everything else around us always changed. Thank you for allowing me to dream.
My wish is that you can get a glimpse of one of the most beautiful places in the world, Priest Lake, and in so doing, re-live the timeless love story of Erika Crawford and T.J. Morgan.
I would love to hear from you. You can reach me through my web site at www.stephaniewilson.com.
Stephanie Wilson
About the Author
STEPHANIE WILSON, a native of the Northwest, has produced television programs for CBS affiliates that were syndicated nationally. She has written and produced a television series that won a national Angel Award for excellence in the media. In addition, she has written news copy for a local CBS affiliate and directed marketing programs for successful humanitarian organizations. In addition to her bachelor’s degree from Seattle Pacific University in history and in communications, she has done post graduate work in U.S. history as well. Stephanie presently lives in Washington with her husband and young son.
Books by Stephanie: