Rich in Hope (Richness in Faith Trilogy Book 2)

by Lindi Peterson

  He fishes in his pocket and pulls out a black velvet box. “I found this at a local jewelers. Since we’re pretending to be engaged, I thought we might as well make it look as real as possible. Including the kneeling thing.”

  Telling myself the disappointment that quickly slid over me at his use of the word pretend is really relief, I try to stop the hammering of my heart at the sight of the box.

  As he opens the box, my hand covers my heart so it doesn’t fly out of my chest onto the patio. The ring is gorgeous.

  Beautiful.

  Sparkling.

  Brilliant.

  How did he know I’d dreamed of my engagement ring looking like the square cut diamond he’s holding right now? And just as big.

  I don’t dare look at him. Not yet. I’m having trouble wrapping my mind around this whole scenario. “Why are you giving me a ring?”

  He stands, and I follow his movements. Lifting my gaze, I see a look pass over his eyes. Not sure what kind of look, but it isn’t intense, it isn’t lazy, it is somewhere in between, like he’s unsure of what is taking place.

  “It seems like the right thing to do. Besides, I saw my mom’s disappointed look when I told her I hadn’t bought you a ring. And I don’t like to see my mom disappointed. Ever.”

  I lift my hand to rub my forehead, but he hijacks my hand and slips the ring onto the fourth finger.

  The wedding finger.

  My hand doesn’t feel weighted like I thought it would feel if I ever accepted a proposal. No, it feels light, not burdening at all. But then again, there is no proposal. It’s pretend.

  So his mom won’t be disappointed.

  Like the Princess Bea story with Phoebe.

  “I hoped you’d say yes.” His voice sounds raspy. Sad?

  I was hoping he would kiss me, not ask me to marry him. “You caught me off guard.” He’s forever catching me off guard.

  “Will you wear it?” He holds onto my hand, his warmth coursing into my palm and up my arm.

  Nothing pretend about that. “Stephen, using the word pretend doesn’t change reality.”

  A soft wind rustles the tree tops, their protest mirroring the stirring of my heart as Stephen’s gaze lingers on me. His eyes search mine, and I want them to find an anchor inside me.

  “No harm in pretending just a little while longer, is there?” he asks.

  My heart soars. “No harm.”

  I stand on my tiptoes, my hands on either side of his face, pulling him toward me. Our lips meet in that anticipated kiss.

  After our kiss ends, I rest my head on his shoulder and marvel at the fact that he thought he could drop all this on me in less than five minutes. This guy is gorgeous. He’s nice. He seems to like kids. Why wouldn’t I want to marry a guy like this? A deep sense of loss at the thought of us breaking up consumes me.

  That feeling can’t be misconstrued as love.

  Can it?

  Facts are facts. Just because I’m going to miss him when we break up doesn’t mean I’m in love with him.

  “If we were really going to be engaged,” he says, “it’s the ring I would pick for you.”

  His statement is bold. Has he thought of asking me to marry him?

  There is something I do love about Stephen. I do love to kiss him. That should count for something.

  I can’t bring myself to think about the possibilities of what could be with someone in my life who isn’t bothered by what makes me insecure, but instead encourages me to hope for a better life.

  Leaving the safety of his arms, I step back. “If you were to really ask me to marry you, I can’t see myself turning down a beautiful ring like this.” The words burst forth without much thought on my part. But they’re out. And I can’t take them back.

  Looking at him expectantly I notice his gorgeous smile that I love so much isn’t gracing his face. Yet, he brings my hand to his lips, yes, the hand with the ring, and brushes a kiss across my skin. A kiss that I might have missed had the heat from his lips not warmed my hand.

  “Let’s go. Your future in-laws are waiting for us.”

  I MUST ADMIT we do look like a family as we walk to the table at the restaurant. I’m holding Phoebe’s hand, Stephen is walking behind us like a protective father and husband.

  Gazes linger on us, but instead of bothering me, they fuel me.

  Stephen’s parents arrived before us, of course, and stand to greet us as we reach the table. It only takes moments for everyone to settle into their seats. The waiter immediately comes over with a glass of water for Phoebe and pours red wine for me and Stephen. His parents had chosen a bottle and insisted on sharing with us. Celebration wine they said.

  I have a feeling it’s going to be a long evening. We have to remember Phoebe has school in the morning.

  The menu has no prices, and I wonder who’s paying. Phoebe and I have a conversation about the food selection on the menu, and she makes a decision. I feel at home in this swanky place. It reminds me of my life in New York. A life I thought I’d left behind.

  Stephen’s family obviously has money. The house he lives in is pricy. I know he must make a great living doing what he does, but everything about his parents, including their restaurant choice, screams money.

  I reach for my wine glass, but before I can grab hold of it, Stephen’s mom grabs my hand.

  “Oh, my. Look at this ring! William,” she turns to her husband, “look. Isn’t this gorgeous? Stephen, I always knew you had good taste. This is exquisite. Simply exquisite.”

  “Thank you.” I better get used to this. It is a beautiful ring. There will be comments no matter where I go.

  “I learned from the best.” Stephen nudges his father.

  “Miss Jenny has a ring?” Phoebe asks. “Can I feel it?”

  “Sure.” I place my hand by hers, and she proceeds to run her fingers across my ring.

  “It’s big.”

  We all laugh.

  “Yes, it is,” Stephen answers.

  The waiter arrives and takes our orders. We make small talk while waiting for our food, then continue as the food arrives. We decide we must not ignore the famous desserts, so we order and split them amongst ourselves.

  Phoebe shoves the last spoonful of brownie fudge sundae into her mouth. “I’m—”

  “Phoebe?” I interrupt.

  She covers her mouth with her hand and chews fast.

  “It’s okay,” I say to her. “We can wait until you are done.”

  She swallows hard. “Sorry. I was going to say I was full.”

  We laugh. “I am too,” I say.

  Stephen’s father raises his wine glass. “Here’s to the engagement of my son and his bride-to-be. Stephen, we couldn’t be happier that you are marrying Jenny.”

  Then I guess they’ll be less than happy when we break up.

  “Here, here,” Liza says. “We are thrilled for you two. Now, when is this wedding?”

  Stephen looks at me before he speaks. “We haven’t chosen a date yet.”

  Liza waves her hand in front of her face. “Of course. We understand. But you are talking sooner rather than later, aren’t you?”

  I’m leaving the talking to Stephen. These are his parents.

  My lie, but his parents.

  “Mom, I know you all too well. What’s on your mind?”

  Liza and William laugh, and William reaches out to brush his wife’s arm. A gesture so gentle and loving. I see where Stephen gets his touching trait from. “He’s got you pegged, honey,” William says.

  Liza smiles at her husband before turning her attention toward Stephen. Her eyes are brimming with tears, and I sense a moment between mother and son coming with her next words.

  And I feel a sense of gloom. Sadness. His parents, his boss, his church friends. This is out of control. I don’t know who else we can meet that this false engagement is going to affect. Thank goodness Katherine is out of town. Although if she had been in town, we wouldn’t be in this mess to begin with.
/>   Liza uses her heavy white napkin to dab the corners of her eyes. “I’m sorry to get so emotional,” she starts.

  William takes her free hand in his. “It’s okay, doll. It’s not every day your only son becomes engaged.”

  Or unengaged.

  “I know, I know,” she mutters.

  Phoebe leans to me. “Is everything okay?” she whispers.

  “Yes,” I answer. Phoebe’s heart is big, and she always wants everyone to be happy.

  “Good,” she says.

  “I have a story to tell,” Liza says, but now I notice her attention is not focused on Stephen anymore, it’s focused on me.

  Liza looks in her purse and pulls out a small box. Bigger than a ring box, but not by much.

  A sense of doom starts to swirl around that sense of gloom. I know without a doubt what Stephen’s mother has in the box, paired with whatever words she is going to speak, will change my life forever.

  “When I was pregnant,” she begins, “The doctors knew that Stephen was a boy. But I didn’t want to know. I wanted to be surprised. We had a girl’s name and a boy’s name picked out, so we were prepared. Remember that day, William? The day I went into labor?”

  “How can I forget? Even if I wanted to, you remind me of it almost every year on his birthday.”

  William laughs as he finishes talking. Stephen and Liza chuckle as well, which I guess causes Phoebe to chuckle. The contagious laugh stops at me.

  I don’t laugh.

  I prepare.

  Because at this moment I realize I don’t even know when his birthday is.

  “Actually, it all worked out well, as if I had planned my day. I slept well, got up in the morning and went into labor. I knew it before I had eaten my breakfast. So William called the office and we settled in to wait until the contractions were five minutes apart.”

  “You wanted to leave when they were eight minutes, but I told you to hold on.”

  “I don’t think so, but, anyway, that’s not important. When we walked out of the house, I saw it. A blue butterfly.” Liza’s eyes sparkle, shimmering with tears. Her expression is one of love. Pure love. And it’s directed at me.

  A blue butterfly? A feeling of being drenched waves over me as I think of that day I sat in the gazebo, watching the blue butterfly.

  Thinking of Stephen.

  “We arrive at the hospital and after that sign God graced our path with that morning, I knew I was having a boy. Things started moving quickly. Five hours later a nurse put this beautiful boy in my arms, wrapped in a soft baby-blue blanket. With tears streaming down my face, I looked into the bluest eyes I had ever seen. Just like that butterfly.”

  This cannot be happening. Is this how God works? In amazing ways that have no earthly explanation?

  “I said to William right then and there, ‘we need to start praying right away for the woman God has chosen to be his wife.’ And we did. We said a prayer right there and have been praying for you every day.”

  I have no idea what to say. I’m at the point of tears, but I can’t speak. What do you say to someone who tells you they’ve been praying for you your whole life?

  “This is where I step in,” William says. “I felt the Lord nudging me all along that we were going to have a boy, so I had gone and picked up a little something for Liza. I had it with me that day, and when we laid our eyes on Stephen, I couldn’t believe what I was seeing. You tell her the rest, honey.”

  I notice I’m about on the edge of my seat now. I don’t know at what point I sat up straight and leaned forward, but this is how I find myself after William speaks.

  “I love this story, so far,” Phoebe says. “I can’t wait to hear more.”

  “Well,” Liza continues, “Here I am, holding the most beautiful baby boy the world had ever seen and my husband dangles something in front of me. At first I had no idea what he was doing, but it only took moments for it to quit moving and I realized it was a silver necklace. And hanging from the necklace was a star sapphire.”

  She opens the box that sits in front of her, and scoots it towards me. The star sapphire sits on a white velvet board.

  “The stone was the color of that butterfly and the color of Stephen’s eyes. The star also reminded me of how God knows the names of all the stars He’s created. And I knew then that He knew the name of Stephen’s wife. And now we all know her name is Jenny.”

  I want to blurt out, “it’s not Jenny,” but I can’t determine if that would be appropriate behavior.

  Liza pulls the velvet box back toward her. I’m relieved because I thought for a moment she was going to give me the necklace, and there is no way, no how I could accept it.

  Instead of closing the lid, Liza removes the necklace from the box, scoots back her chair and stands. My momentary relief is gone and I look to Stephen with eyes that I know are wild, pleading.

  Liza walks behind me. “Grab your hair, darling, I don’t want to get it tangled in this necklace.”

  I do as she says, wondering why I’m doing as she says. I guess I’m waiting for Stephen to stop the madness, but he’s just sitting there, his gaze glued on me and his mom.

  “Jenny,” she says as she drapes the necklace on me, clasps the clasp, then comes around to face me. She takes my hands in hers. I’m sure she can feel me shaking. She has no idea the true reason behind my nervousness. “We welcome you into our family. We welcome you as Stephen’s wife. It would be our honor if you would wear this as your ‘something blue’ as you walk down the aisle.”

  My heart is breaking as tears seep from the corners of my eyes.

  “Liza, you’ve made our Jenny cry.” William sounds choked up as he speaks.

  I’m a total puddle if his dad cries.

  I look at Stephen and softly speak. “Stephen, don’t you have something to say?”

  Please, please tell them the truth.

  “Yes.” He clears his throat. “Yes, I do. The necklace looks beautiful on you, Jenny. Simply beautiful.”

  BREATHE

  “I BET YOUR NECKLACE is so pretty, Miss Jenny.” Phoebe sits on the counter in her bathroom as I brush her hair.

  “The necklace is pretty.” I cannot remove the image of Stephen’s mom’s joy as she asked me to wear the necklace in the wedding as my something blue.

  Even the sound of their voices reveled in the good news.

  It took this act of kindness and love to truly show me we have gone too far.

  I took the necklace off when we arrived home. As soon as I put Phoebe to bed, I’m going to give the ring and the necklace back to Stephen. I’ll make the phone calls. I’ll do whatever it takes to tell the truth right now.

  Tonight.

  “You decided to replace me, Phoebe? Get a new hairdresser?” Stephen asks from the doorway.

  Phoebe laughs. “No, Mr. Stephen. Miss Jenny was already in here so I thought I’d give you a break tonight.”

  Learning that Stephen brushed out Phoebe’s hair each night inches him that much further into my heart, which immediately weakens my resolve to end our relationship tonight. The faux relationship I should say.

  I only wish the jewelry was as fake as we are.

  “Miss Jenny is going to tell me more of our story. Then I’m going to bed.”

  Stephen crosses his arms which serves to accentuate his muscles. “I hope it’s a short addition. Dinner out has us behind schedule tonight.”

  Phoebe’s hand covers her mouth as she yawns. “I know.”

  “I’ll keep it short. Promise,” I say. Then we need to talk.

  He nods. “Night, Phoebe. See you in the morning.”

  “Good night,” she replies.

  She then turns to me. “Princess Bea is in the music room, remember? And the prince has to figure out what he’s going to do with the letter.”

  My mind drifts back to our last Princess conversation. “Yes, he couldn’t go back home without delivering the letter, yet he didn’t really want to deliver the letter, did he?”

>   “No. Because he decided he liked Princess Bea a lot. I think he should give her some jewelry. Like Mr. Stephen gave you a ring. Does that mean you are getting married?”

  The lie started out fun, but now causes a feeling of dread to run through me every time it’s brought up. Maybe she won’t notice if I don’t answer her question about me and Stephen. “What kind of jewelry should the prince give to Princess Bea?”

  “How about a pretty necklace.”

  I think about the necklace Stephen’s mother gave me. The beautiful blue necklace is in its box, on the dresser. “Okay. Is he going to give it to her right away?”

  She laughs. “Not in front of all the people. But why would he bring the necklace with him? He didn’t even know about Princess Bea until he heard her playing the music.”

  “Maybe the necklace was for someone else.”

  “Yeah, like Princess Bea’s mean sister.” She kicks her feet and claps her hands. The drama of a seven-year-old.

  “Overdone. Think of something else.”

  Now she’s sporting a really big smile. She must have thought of something really good.

  “I know, I know. It’s the necklace that is going to break the curse.”

  A smidgen of happy enters my heart at her excitement. I have no idea how this is going to work out, but we can go with it. “Okay. Good job. Now we have to figure out how it all comes together.” I set the brush down. “We’re done. It’s late.”

  “I’m going to be thinking about Princess Bea all night,” Phoebe announces as we leave the bathroom. “I think I’m going to dream about her.”

  Phoebe makes me want to scoop her up, hug her and never let her go. But she’s too old, a little heavy, and would no doubt think I’m crazy. “Sweet dreams,” I say to her as we reach the study.

  “You, too, Miss Jenny.” She crawls into bed.

  Her little fists grab her blanket before she snuggles under the covers. I so want to snuggle with her. Somehow being around Phoebe makes the rest of the world seem unimportant.

  I turn off the light. “Goodnight.”

  “Night,” she replies.

  The Christmas tree lights sparkle and blink in the keeping room. Stephen must have plugged them in, but I don’t see him. It’s late for Phoebe but early for us.