by Gail Sattler
He returned completely exhausted with his leg throbbing, but his mind still raced. He still loved her from the depths of his soul, and he knew he always would. Unable to ignore the pangs of his heart, he flopped down on his bed, not caring about his wet swimsuit. He rested his arm over his face, squeezed his eyes shut, and poured his heart out to God, praying for an answer.
❧
Cindy sat and stared at the flowers that had just been delivered to her desk. Today it was three tulips in the usual colors.
With a shaking hand, Cindy reached out and ran her fingers along the soft petals. A few flowers had never meant so much as they meant today. Her fingers lingered on the white petals. She’d never felt less like an angel.
“What did he send today, Cindy?” Melinda’s voice drifted from beside the window.
The backs of Cindy’s eyes filled with hot tears, and she couldn’t blink them back. She had to talk to him, but she couldn’t wait until the end of the day. Robert owed her so much time by now she could take a vacation, but she only needed one day. And that day would be today.
She buzzed his office. “I’ve got to go,” she blurted out, not caring what she sounded like. “I won’t be back today.”
“Uh. . .” Robert’s voice trailed off. “Uh, sure, that’s fine.”
Cindy grabbed her purse and ran for the elevator, frantically pushing the button repeatedly until the door opened. She sped all the way to Monty’s office, left the car parked crooked, and ran into the building.
She pushed the main door open too fast, causing Agnes to stop typing and stare at her over the tops of her glasses, which were perched efficiently on the end of her nose. She didn’t bother asking for permission to see Monty. Instead, she turned to his office, but before she took her first step in its direction, she froze in her tracks, her heart pounding. The office was spotless, the desk was clear, and the light was out.
“He phoned in sick,” Agnes said.
Cindy felt sick herself. “Thank you, Agnes,” she mumbled, and ran back to the car. She knew where she was going, and she was going to do it in record time.
❧
Monty leaned back on the couch, arms and legs splayed, his head flopped backward, staring at his living room ceiling. He yanked his tie open, then let his hand drop down on the cushion.
He had meant to go to work. He really had. He was dressed and ready to go, but never made it past the living room. After being awake most of the night, he’d slept in for the first time since he started his business. On his dash to the door, he’d stopped to phone the florist before he left, and that had been his breaking point. After ordering the flowers for Cindy, he couldn’t motivate himself to get off the couch.
Monty slouched forward, rested his elbows on his knees, and buried his face in his hands. He wouldn’t have thought it possible, but Cindy was seeing another man. He’d seen it himself.
Bits and pieces started falling together, starting with the first time he’d seen that particular man leaning on her desk when he’d come out of a meeting with Robert.
Monty shook his head, his face still buried in his hands. He’d never felt closer to another human. They were soul mates. Two short days ago she’d said she loved him.
Monty sat upright, tugged off his tie, and threw it into the center of the room in frustration, then stared blankly at the crumpled heap in the center of his carpet.
His mental ramblings were interrupted by a knock on the door. His heart skipped a beat, then pounded in double time at the possibility that it could be Cindy. No one had rung for access, but he’d given her his access code so she wouldn’t need to buzz him before coming up.
Monty hurried to the door, inwardly cursing the limp that slowed him down. With one hand on the doorknob, he drew in a deep breath to calm himself and opened it. But, instead of looking eye to eye with Cindy, he had to look down. A petite, gorgeous blond in a string bikini stood in the doorway.
He blinked twice. “Can I help you with something?” he asked.
“Hi,” she said in a slow, husky voice. “My name is Sharon, and I live a few floors down. I was wondering if I could borrow a cup of sugar?” She smiled sweetly at him, then batted her eyelashes.
The woman’s hands were empty, and it looked like she’d just come out of the pool, not the kitchen. Monty dragged one palm down his face. This wasn’t what he needed, not now, not ever. “Where’s your cup?” He made a point of looking at her hands.
“Oops!” She giggled stupidly. “Can I borrow a cup, too?”
He started to close the door. “Sorry, I don’t have any sugar.” However, before the door moved an inch, she raised one hand, holding onto the edge of the door, halting his efforts to close it without catching her fingers.
“I really don’t want any sugar.” Her voice lowered to a low, sexy drawl. She stepped closer to him, still keeping one hand on the door. “It’s you I want.”
Monty backed up a step, not letting go of the door, either. “I’m sorry, but you’ve got the wrong idea. I think you’d better leave.”
He gently shook the door to get her to let go, which she did, but instead of backing off, she placed her palm in the middle of his chest. Slowly and deliberately, she flicked one button, then raked her long, painted fingernails down his shirt, moving lower and lower.
He fumbled to let go of the door and grabbed her wrist to stop her. “Look, Shirley, Shannon, whatever your name is. Can’t you take a hint? I’m not interested.”
“Oh, you say that now, but soon you will be. Let me change your mind.” She shuffled closer and eyed him up and down, making her intentions quite clear.
Monty nearly choked. He opened his hand, letting her wrist go as fast as if he’d just been burned. “Look. Whatever you’re selling, you’ll have to find an interested buyer somewhere else.”
A movement behind the blond caught his attention. Cindy approached from the elevator.
He opened his mouth, but before he could speak, the blond landed a resounding slap across his face, turned, and stomped off, disappearing into the stairwell.
He touched the sting on his cheek, his eyes fixed on Cindy. Her face paled, her eyes widened, and she backed up a few steps.
“Monty. . .” Her voice quivered, then trailed into oblivion. “How could you. . .” She turned and bolted back to the elevator, the door still ajar.
“I can explain!” he shouted. Trying to ignore the jolts of pain in his leg and not caring that he wasn’t wearing shoes, he tried to run the short distance to stop the elevator door from closing, but it closed a split second before he reached it. He smacked the button with the heel of his hand, but it was too late. The hum of the motor signaled the start of its descent.
She was gone.
With a resounding thud, he punched the elevator door with his fist, then rested his palms on the cold metal and thumped his forehead on it.
He’d been a fool. Just seeing her, he knew instantly that the message she left on his voice mail was true.
Monty squeezed his eyes shut. God had blessed him by sending a very special woman. He couldn’t let her go.
And he couldn’t just stand there and do nothing. He doubted she would go back to work, so Monty went to where he thought she would go, which was her home. However, when he arrived, Cindy’s car wasn’t parked in its usual spot, but Erin’s car was. He hurried to the door, hoping and praying that Erin and Cindy had for some reason traded cars for the day.
When the door opened, instead of Cindy, it was Erin after all.
“What are you doing here?” Erin stood in the doorway, her eyes red, sniffling, a tissue bunched in her hand.
He should have expressed sympathy for Erin being home sick, but he couldn’t think of anything else but where Cindy might have gone. “I have to talk to Cindy.”
Erin sniffled and blew her nose. “She’s at work, isn’t she?”
“No. I don’t suppose you know where she is.”
Erin sneezed and dabbed her nose. “Sorry, I don’t.
I guess you and Cindy didn’t kiss and make up.”
He shook his head and his voice dropped to a low mumble. “No, we didn’t. Not even close.”
Erin led him inside, and Monty sat beside her on the couch.
“There’s nothing between her and Glen.”
Last night, he let the shock of witnessing Glen’s action control him. Today, he knew that Cindy had not initiated it, and more important, that by not listening to her and responding when he should have, he’d hurt her deeply and made a mess of things. “I know that, now.”
Erin sniffled into her tissue, then picked up her Bible and started flipping through it. “I was trying to find something last night to make her feel better, but instead, I found this. Proverbs 27:4. ‘Anger is cruel and fury overwhelming, but who can stand before jealousy?’ ”
Monty buried his face in his hands. He knew he was jealous, but to be smacked over the head with it shamed him like nothing else. Still, Cindy had come to him, and instead of being able to work it out, she’d shown up at exactly the wrong moment. He couldn’t blame her. “I’ve got to find her,” he mumbled between his fingers. “Erin, what should I do?”
“Beg. Grovel.” Erin paused to blow her nose. When she continued, her voice dropped in pitch. “But since she’s not here, all you can do is pray.”
Monty gulped and stared at her. “Pray with me, Erin. Please.”
She nodded, so Monty slid beside her on the couch, grasped her hands, and bowed his head to prepare himself. He wasn’t good at praying aloud, at least not from the heart. He was good at making articulate and sincere prayers when saying grace and for other occasions, even praying for other people and their concerns at Bible study, but never for something that struck him so close to home. With Erin beside him, he prayed his deepest heartfelt prayer.
He recited Matthew 18:20 in his head. “For where two or three come together in my name, there am I with them.”
The verse didn’t refer to asking God for favors. It was in the context of a section dealing with strife and how to deal with someone who had sinned. And to be sure, he had sinned against Cindy. He’d put himself first. In his self-righteous anger and a fit of jealousy, he hadn’t given her a chance. He’d gone to wallow in his misery instead of dealing with it, and by doing so, he’d hurt both of them. He could only hope and pray that he wasn’t already too late to do something about it. He loved Cindy from the depths of his being, and he would do anything to get her back and cement that bond so it could never be broken.
His throat constricted and his eyes burned, but since he was already holding Erin’s hands as they angled toward each other sitting on the couch, he couldn’t let go. He squeezed his eyes shut and prayed.
“Lord God, I’m sorry, so sorry. Please forgive me, and I ask You to find it in Your heart to move Cindy to forgive me, too. And please, help me find her, and give me the right heart and the right words to say.”
The tightness in his throat nearly choked him. He couldn’t speak another word. When Erin squeezed his hands, he nearly fell apart completely, but he managed to compose himself. “Don’t worry, Monty, she can’t stay away forever. If you wait here, she’s got to come home.”
He couldn’t wait that long. He’d go crazy. “I can’t just sit here, Erin.”
“Maybe she went to the mall or something.”
Monty shook his head. “No, she wouldn’t go to such a public place, she’d go. . .” He let his voice trail off and he jumped to his feet. “I know where she is!” He reached in his pocket for his keys, and he was out the door.
❧
Cindy sat on a fallen log, her mind blank. Birds and squirrels chirped and chattered in the trees above her. For the first time, the peace of the nature trail failed to soothe her.
She stared blankly at a spider’s web in the tree beside her, ignoring the sound of an approaching hiker.
“Hi.”
Cindy’s hands flew to her mouth, covering a startled squeak.
Monty stood in the center of the path. “Mind if I join you?”
She merely shrugged her shoulders, not trusting herself to speak. She was too angry, both with him and with herself.
She should have seen this coming. She’d seen the perfume in his bathroom and wondered at the time who it belonged to. Now she knew. And even though it was her favorite, she would never wear that scent again.
It only hurt worse to see the other woman, who appeared to be of questionable character, leaving. If Monty would have given her a chance to explain about Glen’s idiotic attempt to flirt with her, then he wouldn’t have felt the need to resume a past relationship, especially so soon.
Now, it was too late. If he said one word to justify himself, Cindy wouldn’t hold herself responsible for the verbal tirade that would surely follow.
Slowly, Monty approached, then sat so close they nearly touched, but not quite. A large red blotch, no doubt a souvenir from the blond, marred his left cheek. As much as it probably hurt, she refused to feel sorry for him.
“I talked to Erin.”
Cindy simply nodded, then looked away. She could only imagine what Erin would have said. Erin tended to run off at the mouth. Not only would Erin have explained what really happened with Glen, she also would have reproached Monty for not believing her. She didn’t know if she wanted to hear it.
She tried not to jump when his fingers rested on her shoulder. “I’m sorry,” he whispered hoarsely. “I know what it looked like, but nothing happened. Just like I know nothing happened between you and Glen. I should have trusted you, and if you don’t forgive me, I won’t blame you. But when I saw him touching you, well, I was so hurt. . .” He swallowed hard, and his next words were barely audible. “And jealous.”
His fingers drifted from her shoulder to cup her chin with one hand. “I reacted badly, and I’m sorry,” he said gruffly. “I do love you, Cindy.”
Cindy stared at him, her thoughts moving so fast she couldn’t have put them together to form a sentence if she wanted to. All her anger dissolved into a mass of confusion.
His voice dropped to barely a husky whisper. “On Saturday you said you loved me. Do you still?”
Cindy stared into his eyes. She could tell that he was trying beyond his ability to focus on her at close range.
She couldn’t help it, for all his weaknesses and all his strengths, she did love him. She also trusted him. If he said the same thing happened with the blond as happened with Glen, she believed him. “Put your glasses on, Monty.”
He knotted his brows, then fumbled as he tried to put his glasses on too quickly, nearly poking himself in the eye.
When she touched his fingers, his hands immediately clasped hers. “Yes, of course I still love you. I’ll always love you.”
“I don’t want to be separated from you like this ever again. I want to marry you, share a home together, have children with you, and live happily ever after. Please, say you’ll marry me.”
Her heart soared. Erin may have thought him too stuffy, but she thought he was wonderful. With Monty at her side and Jesus in their hearts, life would be wonderful. “Of course I’ll marry you.”
Before she knew what happened, she was in his arms, and his mouth was on hers. He kissed her almost desperately, then slowly and gently until she could barely stand the beauty of it.
He pulled away, then looked into her face in silence. The love shining in his eyes nearly made her melt. She wanted to kiss him again. She had to. “Wait,” she whispered.
She unclasped her hands from around his neck, then gently removed his glasses. Holding them carefully by one earpiece, she slipped her hands once more behind his neck. “Kiss me again, Montgomery Edward Smythe.”
A jay chattered overhead, then took off in flight when Monty’s glasses fell to the ground.
Just when she thought she’d dissolve into the forest floor, his head lifted. “I love you, Cindy. Now let’s go home.”
About the Author
Gail Sattler lives in Vancouver,
BC (where you don’t have to shovel rain) with her husband, three sons, dog, and countless fish, many of which have names. She writes inspirational romance because she loves happily-ever-afters and believes God has a place in that happy ending. Visit Gail’s website at www.gailsattler.com.
Dedication
Dedicated to my husband, Tim, who in some way is part of the hero in all my books. I love you, Sweetie!
A note from the author:
I love to hear from my readers! You may correspond with me by writing:
Gail Sattler
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