Rich in Hope (Richness in Faith Trilogy Book 2)

by Lindi Peterson

  He shakes his head. “I see why you think that way. But I don’t think that way. Yes, Leah was hurt on my watch, yes I tried to make it up to her by caring for her, but she wouldn’t let me. She left.”

  I once again look into his eyes, praying that he’s going to understand what I’m about to say. His hair lifts with the wind, showing off his angled, beautiful face. Still, I speak the words I must. “You said you can’t have back what you gave Leah. I’m sorry she left you. But I need to be loved for me, not so you can prove you’re able to protect and care for somebody. Somebody wounded.”

  He turns and leans against the railing, leaving me missing his small touch. “You need to love somebody because you believe they love you. Not because you need somebody to make you feel beautiful. And I’m that guy. I love you for you.”

  Oh, how I want to believe him, but questions still linger. “How do I know I’m not like a wounded bird you feel bound to care for?”

  “Because you’re not a wounded bird. You’re strong. Talented. You were right. Leah wouldn’t let me take care of her. There was a time I took responsibility for that situation. But I also learned from it. Only God can heal the wounded soul. Once I put Leah in His hands, I let it go. I promise you, I let it go.”

  I feel his truth in the air. It covers me with an assurance that we’ll have tomorrow.

  And the next day.

  And the day after that.

  He smiles. “Stay here. Don’t move.”

  Pushing off the railing, he walks into the hotel. I breathe in, gathering my composure as best as I can. I nearly have enough gathered when he returns.

  He has a package wrapped in pretty silver Christmas paper tied with a big red bow. “Merry Christmas and I love you.”

  I stare at the package, the rather large package, and wish I was in the mood to open Christmas presents. Spending all day sleeping trying to forget about Stephen and the fact that it is Christmas apparently was to no avail.

  “Have you been here since this morning?” I ask.

  “Open your package,” he replies, which answers my question.

  I tear the paper which threatens to fly away in the breeze, but Stephen catches it and crumbles it in his hands, the crumbled paper reflective of my Stephen-heart.

  A black portfolio is my gift. I can’t help but be a little disappointed. It’s a very necessary item that I needed to buy, but it is very impersonal for the conversation we were having.

  Maybe he just doesn’t get it.

  At all.

  “Open it.” One of my favorite things, his smile, warms my heart.

  I do and gasp.

  A beautiful picture of Ann wearing the wedding dress at her wedding graces the page. “How, where did you get this?” I ask.

  “Turn the page.”

  The next two pages have the pictures I took of Ann at the pool wearing the dress.

  I flip the page again and immediately recognize a picture I took of Ann wearing the shorts and top and carrying the beach bag on the boardwalk. I swallow hard, not believing what I’m seeing.

  “I managed to squeeze in some time to put this together,” he says. “This is a great designer with a great future.”

  I keep flipping the pages, amazed at how my designs look in print.

  “Ann and Brett’s wedding photographer was in on this and took a few pictures of her at the wedding for me. People will be impressed when they see the dress was already worn in a wedding. And wait until you get to the end.”

  Unable to absorb the generosity of this gift, I flip to the back. A big logo SunKissed! is creatively put into an ad format.

  “Do you like it?” he asks.

  I run the tips of my fingers over the logo. “I love it.”

  He folds the portfolio shut, sets it on a nearby table and tosses the paper into a trash can.

  It seems like he’s walking to me in slow motion, but I know it’s only the filter of how I’m seeing him. Like my heart is again slowly becoming used to the idea of Stephen as an occupant.

  He reaches for me. “You look very beautiful and classy.”

  “I do?” I smile at his words.

  “Yes. Like royalty, like a princess.”

  My heart warms. “My father isn’t a king.”

  “Yes He is. He is the King of Kings. And you will never feel less than the princess you are.” He takes me in his arms, and I know he’s going to kiss me. His lips capture mine but only for a moment because the next thing I know, he’s on his knee with that gorgeous ring at the ready.

  For the third time.

  “Cheetah, will you marry me?”

  “Yes.” He slips the ring on my finger. “This is the third time we’ve been betrothed, you know.”

  “And it’s the last.” He stands, taking my hands in his. “Jenny, I don’t know what I’d ever do without you, and now I know I’ll never have to.”

  Our lips meet once again, filled with passion, love and truth, and I savor every second of our promise of tomorrow. When we part, I look at him, my handsome fiancé.

  “I have your Christmas present in my room.” I don’t take my eyes off him.

  “I already have my gift. Your promise to be my wife.”

  I brush his hair out of his eyes. “Merry Christmas, Stephen.”

  “Merry Christmas, Cheetah.”

  We meet again in a kiss that says forever.

  BRIDE

  WE PURPOSEFULLY arrive late to our engagement party. We have an agenda.

  I’m wearing a dress I designed. Different from the one Ann wore, but beautiful and elegant nonetheless.

  I scan the crowd and spot Katherine in the blue dress I picked out for her. Katherine who, after a Christmas Day engagement, now has a wedding date in June of next year. Looking further I see Phoebe in her cream-colored dress.

  Perfect.

  “Jenny!”

  That voice can only belong to my mother. “Ready to meet your soon-to-be in-laws?” I ask Stephen.

  “I am. Oh, and I forgot to tell you, the new bedroom suite is being delivered while we are on our honeymoon. No more sleeping in guest rooms.”

  I love this man who is about to become my husband. “New furniture for a new start.”

  I barely get the words out before my mom reaches me. I hug my mom and my dad extra long. It’s been over a month since I’ve seen them. They cut their trip back a week to be here tonight. They wouldn’t miss their only daughter’s wedding.

  Stephen receives the nod of approval from my dad, and I’m glad.

  There’s no turning back now.

  Liza and William greet us. “Oh, Jenny, you’re wearing the necklace I gave you. It’s absolutely stunning on you.”

  I touch the beautiful blue necklace. “Thank you. I think we’re about ready.”

  “Wait. I have a surprise for you, Cheetah.”

  Stephen grabs my hand and squeezes it. With his free hand he motions, like he’s calling somebody over.

  Dominick Redding walks out of the crowd.

  “Stephen?” I look at him.

  Before Stephen can answer Dominick hugs me. “Jenny. How beautiful you are tonight. Absolutely glowing! I have never seen you more radiant. Like your designs, which are magnificent.” He points to my dress. “Your design as well?”

  “It is. I can’t believe you’re here for my special day.” Katherine must have told Dominick about the wedding.

  Dominick smiles. “I’m happy to be here. You and I will talk when you come back from your honeymoon. Until then, ciao, my darling Jenny.”

  He hugs me again then shakes Stephen’s hand. “Thank you, Stephen, for the invitation.”

  Stephen invited Dominick?

  As Dominick walks away I turn to Stephen. “How—”

  Cutting off my question, he brushes a kiss across my lips. “He was going to call you anyway. The invitation seemed like the natural thing to do.”

  I cannot wait for this man to become my husband.

  We motion for Roger and Celin
e to come over as well as Katherine and Teresa, who will bring Phoebe.

  “Ready for me to make the announcement?” Gary asks.

  Stephen looks at me and I smile at him. “I’m so ready,” I say.

  “Let’s do this thing, Cheetah.”

  “Wait,” Gary says. “I have a surprise for you. Look.”

  He steps out from in front of a table. A computer sits on the table and a picture of a man is on the screen. The picture moves and I realize it’s real.

  “Your highness,” Steven says, walking toward the table.

  The king? King Jarvis?

  “Stephen. I was informed of your upcoming nuptials and wanted to see them for myself.”

  Stephen laughs. “Not trusting word of mouth, huh? I don’t blame you.”

  “I see in your face that you are very happy. I’m very glad. I wish you many happy years with your beautiful bride. You are welcome in Zaunesia anytime. Understand?”

  “I understand.”

  “Good. You’ll be receiving an invitation soon. My wayward Arabella has found her husband. I know now she was using you to try and make the lad jealous. It worked. She will be married in a few months. You and your bride will be our guests?”

  Stephen looks at me. I shrug my shoulders and nod.

  “Sure. We’ll be there.”

  “Good. Good. Now go. Make that beautiful woman your bride.”

  “I will. Later, your highness.”

  Stephen walks over to me, and I truly feel beautiful.

  “All right, Gare.”

  He kisses me, then I grab Phoebe’s hand. Katherine, Phoebe, my father and I walk over to the entrance.

  Gary silences the crowd. “Okay, folks. We thank everyone for coming to Stephen and Jenny’s engagement party. But I’m afraid I have some news. It’s not an engagement party.”

  A despaired groan murmurs through the crowd. Gary silences them again. “No, no engagement party. But it is a wedding. And you’re all invited. If we could all clear to one side or another, we’ll make an aisle Jenny can walk down.”

  The crowd cheers and separates, and I see Stephen at the other end of the room.

  My love.

  I watch Phoebe and Katherine walk hand in hand toward him. I hold on tight to my father.

  “Ready?” he asks.

  “I am.”

  We start walking and my gaze never leaves Stephen’s.

  I may be broke, but I’m rich in hope for my life with Stephen, with God, and knowing this man will think I’m beautiful for the rest of my life.

  The End!

  Coming Next

  Rich in Faith

  Book THREE of the Richness in Faith Trilogy

  “And why do you worry about clothes? See how the lilies of the field grow. They do not labor or spin.”

  Matthew 6:28

  NKJV

  MISTAKE

  AS I STAND ON Peachtree Street in downtown Atlanta waiting for a cab to take me to the airport, I’m reminded of the night I lost my faith. At least that’s what Mama would have called my lapse in judgment.

  Losing my faith.

  A muggy haze hangs over the evening, reminiscent of that long ago night. Paul Wentworth had been my boyfriend for awhile. He was also the richest guy in school, and when I envisioned our first time together, I thought it would happen in a grand place, like his parent’s weekend lake house.

  Or maybe an elegant hotel, like the Ritz at Lenox.

  So imagine my disappointment when he pulled up to a motel on the outskirts of nowhere important.

  More than ten years have passed, but it seems like nothing has changed.

  My wealthy, attractive fiancé has dumped me for the heiress of a clothing company claiming he’s finally found true love. Simply a coincidence that his breakup came shortly after dinner at my parent’s house.

  Trailer.

  House trailer.

  Now I, Shelby Madison, am left on the outskirts of nowhere important once again.

  Alone.

  Alone and more determined than ever not to let anyone in. Because it’s too hard when they tell you they want out.

  “WHAT DO YOU MEAN the position is filled? There must be a mistake. Barb Simmons said she had arranged everything.” Unable to calm my racing heart, I stand in the foyer of the Hampton Cove mansion, my two suitcases flanking either side of me. My backpack straps cut into my shoulder while my overly large purse is about to break my forearm.

  “I believe Ms. Simmons was misinformed regarding the position of housekeeper.” The older, sturdy woman isn’t mean. No, adamant is more like it. “I’m the housekeeper. And I intend to keep my position.”

  My purse slips off my forearm and plummets to the rug. “Ms.. . ?”

  “Mrs. Stratton.”

  “Mrs. Stratton. Are you sure there hasn’t been a mistake? Do you know Barb? Why would she let me sublet my Atlanta apartment for the summer if you had no intention of leaving your job?”

  Mrs. Stratton shoves her hands inside the pockets of her gray, knee-length uniform. “The name Simmons sounds familiar. I believe Mr. and Mrs. Simmons are friends of Mr. Treyhune. But I haven’t any idea why she would arrange for your trip here. Why don’t you call and ask her?”

  The events of the last couple of weeks have really worn on my brain. Of course I need to call Barb. “I’ll will.”

  Before I can rummage through my purse which still sits on the rug, a scream fills the air. Startled, I look at Mrs. Stratton who simply rolls her eyes.

  Then two flashes of small bodies with very long black hair rush across what appears to be a formal living room.

  Another girl, this one in her twenties, enters the living room from the same direction the small girls did. But she doesn’t follow their path. No, she walks towards Mrs. Stratton and me.

  She has a purse slung over her shoulder and a frown on her face. She holds a key out toward Mrs. Stratton. “Here. Tell Mr. Treyhune I’m done. I can’t work out my notice. It’s not worth the money. That’s how done I am.”

  Mrs. Stratton doesn’t say anything, but she does take the key.

  The girl who couldn’t work her notice stares at me momentarily before taking in my luggage. She shakes her head. “If you’re the new nanny, good luck is all I can say.”

  With those words, she passes by me, her sweet smelling perfume moving along with her.

  After the door clicks shut I look at Mrs. Stratton. “The new nanny?”

  She shakes her head. “The previous nanny left almost a month ago. Tracy was filling in until Mr. Treyhune could hire someone else. Maybe Mrs. Simmons arranged that position for you.”

  I shudder. “I doubt it. I don’t have any experience taking care of a child. Let alone two.”

  “And they’re a pair, all right.”

  As if they’d been summoned the girls fly back across the living room in the direction from which they had come a couple of minutes ago. They are still screaming.

  Covering my ears I kind of hunch down. “Does that go on a lot?”

  “Depends.”

  “On what?”

  “On lots of things. If you want to stay I’ll show you your room.”

  I uncover my ears then run my hand through my hair. “No. I don’t want to stay. Can I talk to Mr. Treyhune?”

  Mrs. Stratton chuckles. “You may. You can pull up a couch until he arrives home from work about nine o’clock this evening.”

  “Nine? That’s late.” Memories of my long days as CFO at Brady Engineering fill my mind. There were times I considered leaving at nine o’clock leaving early. Of course a lot of those times I was working closely with Dale. Dale Brady had started the company, hired me as the CFO and together we had built a nice business.

  And a nice relationship. The fourth finger on my left hand is now void of the engagement ring he gave me.

  Then took back.

  I wonder if he’ll give his new girlfriend a ring someday and if so, will it be the same ring?

  I need a distrac
tion from these thoughts that keep assailing me. Will Dale ever leave my brain? “I could go to Mr. Treyhune’s office if you give me the address.”

  “He has several offices. One at each dealership. Treyhune Chevrolet, Treyhune Ford, Treyhune Dodge. Take your pick. Maybe you’ll get lucky.”

  I steady my hand on my luggage handle. “Mr. Treyhune is that Treyhune?”

  Mrs. Stratton looks at me like I’ve grown two heads. “What do you mean by that Treyhune?”

  “Please don’t tell me he’s the racing Treyhune. The one that won all the championships way back.”

  She shakes her head. “He’s not that Treyhune.”

  My nerves steady. “Okay. Good.”

  “He’s his son. Court.”

  I stand stunned. My dad would have a heart attack if he had an inkling his daughter was standing in the home of Court Treyhune. The fact that he couldn’t ever live up to his father’s racing greatness made him no less important in the eyes of the racing fans.

  They still loved him.

  According to the media what Court lacked in his inability to drive, he made up for in his looks and charitable doings. Great. “Court Treyhune. And these are his daughters?”

  “They are. Bristol and Darling.”

  I laugh at the irony. “Race tracks.” I point to myself. “I’m named after a car, myself. Shelby. Shelby Madison.”

  Mrs. Stratton cracks a smile for the first time in our conversation. “Nice to meet you, Shelby.”

  “His wife died a couple of years ago, didn’t she?”

  “Yes. I only knew her a short time before she passed away. I started working here when they moved in, but she didn’t live long after the move. She was very sick.”

  I’m not telling Mrs. Stratton I feel like I know the Treyhunes. My dad is a huge fan, and I probably know way more about them than any sane person should. And half the stuff my dad told me, I tuned out. Like maybe the fact that Court Treyhune lived in Hampton Cove, Florida. “I’m sorry to hear that. I’m sure the girls miss their mother.”

  “They do. And now it looks like I’m not only the housekeeper but the nanny for the rest of the day.”

  I rummage through my purse and find my phone. Two o’clock. I could go and try to catch Court Treyhune at one of his offices. Or I could stay here until he comes home.