Season of Joy

by Virginia Carmichael

  She broke off their kiss and tilted her head. “Listen,” she whispered.

  Out in the lobby the caroling had begun. The sweet sound of children’s voices filtered through the office door and down the hallway, bringing a message of faith and hope.

  He hated to let her go, but there would be time. Days and weeks and years left to talk and revel in the blessings God had in store. “We’d better get out there and make sure Marisol hasn’t flooded the lobby with tears.”

  She stood up on her tiptoes and feathered one last kiss on his lips. “Lead the way.”

  “That’s what you said the first day we met. Do you remember?”

  “Did I?” Her lips tilted up, eyes bright with love. “Well, I’m so glad you did. It’s what you do best.”

  Live more abundantly. He paused, knowing that timing was everything. And he had a great feeling that it was the right time to say what was in his heart. “With you by my side, I’ll lead even better. Will you marry me? Share your life with me? Be a part of this mission?”

  A wonder that words so softly spoken could hold his entire future. “Yes, oh, yes.”

  He tugged her back into his arms, her tears blending into their kisses.

  “But, Calista, I have to say something,” he murmured as he trailed kisses along her cheek.

  “Anything.”

  “You’ve got to give away that cat.”

  She pulled back from him, laughter creasing her face. “With pleasure.”

  Epilogue

  “The photographer is wearing a path in the floor,” Lissa said, popping her head into the room. “I don’t think he’s used to this kind of crowd.” She slipped into the room and stood uncertainly behind Calista. “And you look totally gorgeous. In case no one has told you that.”

  “Tell him to keep his hat on.” Marisol fussed with Calista’s veil and frowned.

  Calista met Lissa’s gaze in the mirror and mouthed “thank you.”

  Jackie cleared her throat and stood up, smoothing down her elegant green satin dress. “I’m headed out. Lana’s got all the groomsmen corralled.” She waved her bouquet in the air and the scent of fresh baby roses filled the room. “Don’t be late.” She dropped a kiss on Calista’s cheek.

  “Never.” If only she could get Marisol to stop fluffing her veil. The gauzy material was dotted with tiny freshwater pearls. It fell in stiff cascades down her back to her waist, accenting the simplicity of the satin bodice and cap sleeves.

  “Mari,” Calista whispered, gently catching the old woman’s hand in hers. “It’s not going to be a winter wedding if I wait any longer,” she said, her tone teasing.

  “Ah, mija!” Marisol shook her head forlornly. “I feel as if my children are growing up. But I suppose it is God’s will. Just promise me that I can be abuelita to all your babies.”

  For the first time that day, Calista felt tears well up in her eyes. To be called mija with such fierce love, to be called family by this faithful woman, was almost too much. She rose swiftly, and reached out to hug Marisol tight, inhaling the familiar smell of chili powder and clean soap.

  “Gracias, por todo,” she whispered in her ear. Then with one final squeeze, she turned to the door.

  “Are you ready?” Lissa bounced on her toes, the bridesmaid dress shimmering darkly with the movement. The sight of the young woman who preferred rips and tears in her clothes wearing something so girlie made Calista’s heart swell with affection.

  “Never been more ready,” Calista said, taking a last sweeping glance around the old room. In all her daydreams she had never imagined prepping for her wedding in second-hand chairs, on ugly orange carpet, in front of a shadowy mirror. But how she had come to love this place and these people!

  Marisol took a white handkerchief from her sleeve and waved it. “Now I’m ready.”

  Calista laughed out loud and took her arm. “Then let’s go show them how it’s done, Marisol.”

  Walking slowly to accommodate the older woman’s halting steps, they moved to the entranceway as the music began. Lissa, Lana and Jackie progressed at a dignified pace, handsome escorts at their sides.

  The change of music signaled the bride’s approach and Calista smiled at the sedate notes of Pachelbel’s Canon in D. Jorge lifted a hand in greeting, his head bobbing as he worked his magic with the stereo equipment. Grant was the one who’d asked him to play DJ for the day and Calista had half expected her walk down the aisle to be to a thumping hip-hop beat.

  They stepped onto the green-carpeted aisle and Calista gasped at the transformation of the old cafeteria. A green velvet curtain blocked off the view of the kitchen construction. Trailing ivy and fairy lights lined the doors and the aisle. Tea lights and white satin bows decorated the sills along each frosty window, with generous boughs of holly every few feet. Her gaze swept the crowd, seeing so many friends and family. Her sister Elaine’s husband stood near the back row, bouncing their baby boy as he fussed, smiling apologetically at the baby’s contribution to the ceremony. Aliya, Josh and McKenzie grinned from the front row while little Savannah, pink sunglasses in place, waved like a metronome set on high.

  At the very front stood Grant, impossibly handsome in a tuxedo, tiny white rose in his lapel. Eric stood a little to his left, red hair smoothed down for once. Elaine stood to the right of the minister. The two sisters locked eyes for a moment and Calista forced herself to glance away as her throat squeezed shut. The joy on Elaine’s face spoke of healing and new beginnings, a family learning to love each other again.

  The details of the room faded away as Calista looked into Grant’s eyes. His face was alight with hope and the promise of years to love each other, of the family they wanted to make together. She wanted to sprint down the aisle but managed to keep a steady pace with Marisol.

  With just a few more steps she stood at his side, unable to tear her gaze from his.

  He leaned forward, dark hair falling over his forehead, and whispered in her ear, “I’ve decided to throw in a corner office to sweeten the deal. What do you say?”

  She couldn’t help laughing. “Just not the filing room?” she whispered back.

  As they turned as one to face the minister, he spoke out of the corner of his mouth. “Nope. And it comes with some great art.”

  Calista blinked back sudden tears and gripped Grant’s hand. God had moved heaven and earth, and the board of directors, to bring them to this point. She answered Grant’s radiant smile with one of her own and knew that God’s timing had never been more perfect.

  * * * * *

  If you enjoyed Virginia Carmichael’s story,

  be sure to check out the other books this month

  from Love Inspired!

  * * * * *

  Keep reading for an excerpt of Montana Dreams by Jillian Hart!

  Dear Reader,

  Like most of this nation in the past few years, our family has walked the fine line of poverty through multiple job losses. Only by the grace of God have we never had to experience homelessness. Watching friends and family struggle through financial hardship, while witnessing the amazing generosity of others, encouraged me to examine my own opinions about poverty and the working poor.

  Calista worked hard for everything she has and her success seems to be the American dream, right? But inside, she’s lonely and unsure. When she searches for meaning in her life, her new faith nudges her toward a different kind of work. The people at the mission, especially the children, give her the family that she’s been missing. But she sees the handsome director as impossibly perfect, just the way other people see her as CEO. It takes time for her to reach the man underneath, who struggles in his own way to find God’s perfect will.

  I love the verse where Jesus said he came so that we might have life and have it more abundantly. Sometimes God’s idea of abundance
isn’t quite what we imagine it will be. Sometimes it takes a little reflection (or a lot) to see where He’s handing out gifts in our lives. I’d love to hear about the gifts He’s given you, even if they’re not quite what you expected! You can snail mail me c/o Love Inspired Books, 233 Broadway, Suite 1001, New York, New York, 10279, or through my website virginiacarmichael.blogspot.com.

  Virginia Carmichael

  Questions for Discussion

  Calista’s father was cold and unloving toward her, but warm and friendly to others. How can hypocrisy do more damage than domestic violence? Do you think it’s sometimes easier to be loving to strangers than to those whom we live with day in and day out?

  Grant’s father refused to acknowledge his son throughout his life, but then changes his mind. How did this affect Grant’s ability to trust other people? Why would Grant agree with the phrase “love of money is the root of all evil”?

  Calista is a powerful businesswoman who can make boardroom deals without breaking a sweat. Why is it so hard for her to walk into the mission and ask if she can help? Where would you be most out of your comfort zone and still be doing God’s will?

  Marisol has endured a terrible tragedy in her life, but she thinks that Grant has suffered more. How can a loved one dying be less painful than watching someone walk away? What is special about Marisol’s ability to give advice and love to Grant and Calista?

  Lana is a strong, capable woman but when Calista first meets her, she feels uncomfortable with her unusual appearance. Would Lana ever have gotten a job as Calista’s receptionist? Why or why not?

  Grant gave Jose a job at the mission when he was still struggling to overcome his dependency issues. How is it easier for Grant to offer refuge and solace to Jose than someone like Calista?

  Kurt Daniels wants to have a relationship with his son, after years of ignoring his existence. How does he ruin his chances of being a father, even in the end? Why would he think threats and money would buy him Grant’s love?

  Calista has the ability to make a lot of money, but realizes that she isn’t as good at cultivating friendships or family connections. How does her growing faith change her view of success? How does God’s unconditional love change the way she views people like Jose, Lana, Marisol or Savannah?

  Most people would consider inheriting a huge fortune to be a good thing. Grant wants nothing to do with his father’s fortune and Calista understands. How does her acceptance of his decisions help him to trust her? Could he have accepted the money with a clear conscience? When do the needs of others outweigh our own reservations?

  Eric is Grant’s best friend. What does his advice about “living life more abundantly” mean to Grant? What in your life is a perfect example of God wishing you life more abundant?

  Most people would consider a CEO and a homeless-shelter director to be opposites. How are Calista and Grant a perfect match? How does Calista bring out the best in Grant’s commitment to his residents? How does Grant encourage Calista to do what she’s best at, including making money and business?

  Grant makes a choice to accept Kurt Daniels’s apology, and will make an effort to have some sort of relationship with him. How is it hardest to forgive those people who hurt us as children? Do you think Calista will reach out to her father in time? Should she?

  We hope you enjoyed this Harlequin Love Inspired story.

  You believe hearts can heal. Love Inspired stories show that faith, forgiveness and hope have the power to lift spirits and change lives—always.

  Visit Harlequin.com to find your next great read.

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  Chapter One

  “You always were good for nothing, girl.” Her father’s bitter voice grumbled through the small, unkempt house. “Get the lead out of your lazy butt and fetch me something to eat. I’m gettin’ hungry.”

  Millie Wilson straightened up, mop handle clutched in one hand, closed her eyes and prayed for strength. The Lord had to help her because she wasn’t sure she could do this without Him. The call in the middle of the night, a doctor’s voice on the other end of the line, her father’s collapse and terminal prognosis. If only there had been anyone—anyone at all—to take over his care. “I have to go to the market, Dad.”

  “You should have thought of that earlier,” he barked from the other room.

  And I came back, why? She swished the mop into the sudsy bucket, wrung it out and scoured the last patch of kitchen floor. Marginally better, but it was going to take more than one pass over. She didn’t want to think how long it had been since the floor had a proper cleaning—it would take a scrub brush and a lot of elbow grease to get out the dirt ground into the texture of the linoleum—a job for another time. Her back ached just thinking of it.

  “Millie?” A knock echoed above the hum of the air conditioner. A familiar face smiled in at her, visible through the pane of glass in the door. The foreman tipped his Stetson and rolled the tobacco around to his other cheek while he waited for her to open the door.

  “Hi, Milton. What’s up?” She squinted in the bright summer sun.

  “We got problems. Paychecks bounced. Again.” Milton paused a moment to gather his spit, turn aside and spew a stream of tobacco juice into the barren flower bed. “The boys aren’t going to stand for this. They’ve got rent due and mouths to feed.”

  “I know.” Why didn’t this surprise her either? She rubbed her forehead, which was beginning to pound. “I’m overwhelmed here. I haven’t even thought about Dad’s finances.”

  “They’re a shambles, that’s what.” Milton shook his head, his weathered face lined with a mixture of grief and disgust. “Work is scarce in this part of the county. No one wants to walk away from a job right now. I know Whip is sick, but if he doesn’t take care of his workers, then we can’t work for free. Those cows need to be milked no matter what.”

  “Give me a day to problem solve. Can you ask everyone to wait? I’m here now, I’ve been here for two hours. Let me figure out what’s what, and I’ll do everything I can to make good on those checks.”

  “We appreciate that, Millie. I know you’ll do your best by us, but I don’t know what the boys will go for.” Milton tipped his hat in a combination of thanks and farewell before he ambled toward the steps. “Keep in mind that if things don’t get better...”

  “I hear you.” Someone had to do the work, and it took a team of men to do it. As Milton headed off back down the driveway, Millie wondered if she remembered how to run a milking parlor. That part of her life seemed a world away, nearly forgotten. Probably intentionally.

  “Put ice cream on that list, girl, and get a move on.” In his room, Pa must have hit the remote because the soundtrack from a spaghetti Western drowned out every other noise in the house and kept her from arguing. The pop of gunfire and the drum of galloping horses accompanied her while she upended her mop bucket over the sink, stowed the meager cleaning supplies and made a mental grocery list.

  Time to blow this place. She grabbed her purse and the big ring of farm keys. She called out to her dad, not sure if he could hear her over the blaring television and hopped out the front door.

  “Mom.” Simon looked up, pushed his round glasses higher on his nose with a thumb and held out a handful of wildflowers. “I picked them for you.”

  “You did?” Just what she needed. One look at her nine-year-old son eased the strain of the tough last couple of hours. Love filled her heart like a tidal wave as the black-haired boy with
deep blue eyes ran across a lawn that had gone wild. Blossoms danced in his fist as he held them up to her.

  Better than roses any day. “Thank you. They’re wonderful. I love them.”

  “I thought you needed something, you know, to make you smile.” He shrugged his shoulders, his button face puckered up with worry. “You’ve frowned the whole time, ever since you said we had to come here.”

  “Really? Oh, I didn’t mean to. Sorry about that, kiddo.” She took a moment to admire her bouquet of yellow sunflowers, snowy daisies, purple coneflowers and cheerful buttercups. “These certainly should do the trick. Am I smiling?”

  “Yeah. Much better.” When he grinned, deep dimples cut into his cheeks, so like his father’s that it drove straight to her heart.

  It was one pain that would never fade. She’d stopped trying to make it disappear years ago. There was just no use. Once, she’d loved Simon’s father with all the depth of her being. Losing him had shattered her. Ten years later and she still hadn’t found a way to make her heart whole.

  Being back home in this little corner of Montana made her wonder. Just how much would she remember—things she couldn’t hold back? She sighed, thinking of how young she’d been, of how truly she’d loved the man and, yes, it hurt to remember. She ran a hand along her son’s cheek—such a sweet boy—and kept the smile on her face.

  Simon was what mattered now.

  “Guess what?” she asked. “I need a copilot.”

  “I’m on it.” Simon leaped ahead, dashing toward the old Ford pickup. “Where’re we goin’?”

  “To the grocery store, unless you want to eat stale crackers and dried-up peanut butter for supper.”