“Carly, I’m so sorry.” A bleakness dulled his blue eyes to murky gray. “I’ve been an utter fool, a complete idiot. I had no right to say any of the things I said to you.”
But you said you loved me. You asked me to marry you. Her stomach clenched into a painful knot, but she arranged a composed expression on her face. She needed to put Ryan in God’s hands alone, and though it hurt, she’d do just that. In a paradoxical way, his criticism had given her the strength to let him go, and he deserved to know it.
“You were right about me going through the motions, at least in some ways. I held on to the guilt over Allison out of a kind of fear. I see that now.”
“If I helped you, I’m glad.”
“You did.”
“Good.” He glanced at the ocean, then faced her again. “Criticizing your faith was the first thing I needed to take back. There’s something else, and it’s going to change everything between us.”
Back straight and chin high, she braced herself to hear him say marriage would be a mistake, and she had to move out of the house because it was impossible to be just friends. She would always be close to Penny, but if Ryan didn’t want to marry her, it would be an answer to her prayer asking God to guide them, though it wasn’t the answer she wanted.
He lifted her hand in his. “I don’t want to do things your way or my way. I want to do them God’s way. And I want our way to be His way.”
Her free hand flew to her chest, and her mouth fell open. “Are you saying what I think you’re saying?”
His eyes twinkled in a chagrined sort of way. “Yes, I am. But I’m doing a lousy job of it.”
“No!” she protested. “Tell me everything!”
Looking down, he pointed to the X in the sand with his foot. “This is where it happened. I hit my knees and prayed—not that God would lead us to Penny, but that I’d understand that thing you call faith. He must have heard, because I-I’m not the same. I can’t describe it. It’s just . . . just . . .” He shook his head. “I’m stammering like a fool.”
“And you never stammer,” she said gently. “I understand completely what you’re saying.”
“Good, because I don’t.”
“You will.”
“I hope so, but considering I’ve been a Christian for”—he glanced at his watch—“exactly thirty-two minutes, I have no idea what God’s way is. I love you, Carly. I want to marry you, but I also want to be the husband you deserve. Can you put up with a long engagement?”
She caught her breath. Her heart pounded against her ribs, and all she could think was that Ryan had found his way home, and he loved her and wanted to marry her.
“Six months,” he said. “Maybe a year. You can plan the wedding of your dreams. We’ll shop for rings and go on dates. Dinners. Movies. Even more baseball games. I want to romance you, Carly Jo.”
His irises were as steely as ever, but they were no longer cold. The color matched the ocean depths, and so did her love for this man who had wrestled with God and found a faith of his own. She flung her arms around his neck. “Yes,” she cried. “I’ll wait for you.”
He kissed her then, and she savored every tingle and special feeling. The kiss took her to a beautiful, exotic place—an island paradise fit for a honeymoon. Breathless, she stepped back. “I have to move out of your house.”
Ryan’s eyes smoldered into hers. “It’s that, or we elope tonight. And I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
“Probably not,” she said in her most sultry voice. “But it’s tempting.”
He tunneled his hands through her hair, then tilted her face up to his. “Do you remember when I said this kind of attraction was just nature?”
She nodded.
“This isn’t just nature, Carly. It’s love. Your father asked me if I was willing to die for you, and I am. But even more important, I’m willing to live for God, you, Penny, the boys, and the children I hope we have together.”
Carly melted into a puddle. Ryan. Her husband. Her lover, protector, and friend. And she’d be the same kind of partner to him. With the sun burning away the fog, and the clouds parting to reveal the true-blue sky, she swayed into his arms, tilted her face up to his, and closed her eyes. He nibbled her ear, caressed her cheek, until at last his lips found hers in a kiss that was nature at its best, special and forever, and not the least bit complicated.
Epilogue
ONE YEAR LATER
Standing in front of the wedding guests with Kyle and Eric at his side and Paul behind him in a minister’s robe, Ryan peered down the beach to a white tent festooned with yellow roses, daisies, and a slew of dahlias. For months he had listened to Carly prattle about flowers and guests, catering and colors, but the one thing she never mentioned was her dress.
He didn’t think too much about it until now. The tent shielded Carly and her bridesmaids from his eyes, but in a few minutes, the violinist would strike the first lilting notes of Pachelbel’s “Canon in D,” and his bride would make the long walk up the beach.
“Are you nervous?” Paul asked him.
“Not a bit.” Ryan had never been more sure of anything in his life.
“Well, I am,” Kyle muttered under his breath. “What if I drop the ring?”
Eric jabbed Kyle with his elbow. “Don’t be an idiot. If you can catch a baseball, you can handle a ring.”
A proud smile tilted on Ryan’s face. The three of them made a good team now, and today his sons were impressive. Dressed in dark suits but wearing flip-flops because of the sand, with fresh haircuts and a little too much cologne, they had his back. So did Paul Mason, who was a father, mentor, and friend, all rolled into one person.
The violinist stood, raised her bow, and the first notes of Carly’s favorite hymn, “Be Thou My Vision,” filled the balmy air. Standing tall, Ryan stared at the entrance to the tent. The wind stirred through the flowers, someone pushed the flaps open, and Penny stepped into the bright sun.
What a year it had been. . . . Becoming a Christian, Ryan discovered, was like diving into the deep end of a swimming pool. Once a man took the plunge, he was wet all over, and there was no going back. He and Paul had smoked a lot of cigars together, both during Paul’s visits to California and at Thanksgiving when Ryan, Carly, and Penny visited Boomer County. He’d met a slew of aunts, uncles, and cousins, eaten his first “hot brown,” a Kentucky specialty, and learned to say “How ’bout them Cats?” and mean it.
He glanced now at the white chairs on Carly’s side of their impromptu church and saw half of Boomer County, Allison, her great-aunt, plus Carly’s new friends from the local FASD community. The chairs on the other side of the aisle were filled with Ryan’s colleagues, old friends, Fran, and new friends from the church he and Carly now called their own. Even Heather and her husband were here—a tribute to forgiveness, goodwill, and the friendship between Heather and Carly. That friendship, plus Ryan’s genuine respect for Heather’s husband, made it a lot easier to be a dad to his sons.
What had he done to be so blessed? Nothing . . . absolutely nothing. Grace. It was a gift from God and one he didn’t deserve, yet cherished.
Penny stepped onto the white runner between the chairs, beamed a smile at Ryan, and waved to be sure he saw her. He waved back, and Penny took her seat in the front row with Miss Hannah, the nanny who took over when Carly had moved to a gated apartment complex.
Ryan focused back on the tent. The flaps opened again, and Denise stepped onto the sand. The three of them were good friends now. Once a month they met for dinner without Penny and hashed out any difficulties, but mostly they traded stories and supported one another.
Next came Joanna, Carly’s sister and matron of honor. In the absence of their mom, Joanna had been a rock in those moments of bridal insanity. Somehow she’d kept Carly and the wedding on an even keel, even when the florist ran late and Penny lost her white flip-flops for the third time. Smiling as she came down the aisle, Joanna winked at her husband and sons in the third row, then
joined Denise.
The violinist played a final note. As the melody faded to silence, a hush settled over the crowd. Ryan’s pulse sped up, and it raced even faster when Carly’s brother, Master Sergeant Joshua Mason, in full military dress, pinned back the tent flaps, pivoted, and stood ramrod straight with his elbow crooked. And on cue the violinist played the opening notes of the Pachelbel “Canon.”
Bending slightly, with a bouquet of white roses in hand, Carly stepped out of the tent and into the light. She curled her bare fingers over her brother’s elbow, he covered them with his gloved hand, and they began the long walk up the beach.
Her hair, long and loose, shimmered in the sun, and her cheeks glowed with happiness as she sought Ryan’s gaze. When their eyes locked, her smile stretched even wider. She was beautiful, and she was his. But what nearly knocked him to his knees was the dress. Somehow the white silk caught the sun and shimmered into a light so bright that all Ryan could see was purity.
The purity of God’s love.
The purity of his own soul washed clean.
The purity of a bride coming to her groom with the precious gift of her love and the promise to be his alone.
In a few minutes, he and Carly would take their vows. His SOS list would be complete, and their life together would begin. With his heart overflowing, he gave thanks for his bride, his family, and the unstoppable love of his own heavenly Father.
A Note From the Author
Dear Reader,
Fetal Alcohol Spectrum Disorder (FASD) is a complicated subject. I’m not an expert in any way, but an encounter with a boy in our Cub Scout troop put a face on it for me. I’m going to call him Tommy (not his real name) and share a few stories with you.
This was back in 1997, and at the time I’d never heard of Fetal Alcohol Syndrome. I just knew that among the eight boys in our troop, Tommy stood out. With his small head, narrow eyes, and flattened features, including no dent over his upper lip, he was different from the other kids.
He also behaved in odd ways. While the other boys paid attention (at least some of the time), Tommy didn’t even try to focus. When we carved fish out of bars of Ivory soap, he lacked even the most basic coordination. Sometimes he became frustrated, but mostly he retreated into his own world.
I knew Tommy was in Special Ed and didn’t think too much about why until a particular conversation with his mom. We were talking about kids and braces when she told me Tommy would never get his permanent teeth. He just didn’t have them. I’d never heard of anything like that, and though I wondered why, it seemed rude to ask. My thoughts were simply, “That poor kid.”
Flash forward several years.
I’m at the computer researching birth defects for a different book, and Tommy’s face pops on to the screen. It wasn’t actually Tommy, but the face staring at me from a Fetal Alcohol Web site had the same unique features that characterized Tommy. His condition now had a name—Fetal Alcohol Syndrome, or FAS.
That was the moment when the idea for Penny was conceived. I read a lot of books, including The Broken Cord by Michael Dorris, perhaps the first and most well known of the FAS books. There are a lot of blogs out there, but the one that stood out for me was Jeff Noble’s FASD Forever (http://fasdforever.com). Jeff’s work is inspiring, honest, and full of warmth and humor. On the personal side, I listened to stories from friends with related experiences. Penny’s mermaid infatuation was confirmed by one of those conversations, as well as Carly using a tent to give her a safe place.
As the words “spectrum disorder” imply, there’s a lot of variation in the effects of fetal alcohol. The amount of alcohol consumed and the gestational time of exposure both make big differences. There’s an alphabet soup of acronyms and abbreviations, and research continues to provide new information.
The highest level on the spectrum is full-blown Fetal Alcohol Syndrome, which is where I suspect Tommy fit. The lowest level is Fetal Alcohol Effects. That’s where I placed Penny for the sake of a story that’s primarily a romance.
I hope you enjoyed getting to know this little girl. I like to think that when Penny reaches adulthood, she’ll follow in the steps of Emily Travis, Miss Southern Illinois 2012. Born with alcohol in her system and addicted to drugs used by her mother, Emily is a strong advocate for FASD prevention.
There are two things I hope readers take away from the FASD aspect of Together With You. The first is that FASD is 100 percent preventable. If you’re pregnant, don’t drink. If you think you might become pregnant, don’t drink. No child should sustain what’s essentially a traumatic brain injury in its mother’s womb.
The second takeaway is that no one is perfect. No matter where we fall on the spectrum of humanity, we all need forgiveness, love, and the grace of our heavenly Father.
With love,
Victoria Bylin
Victoria Bylin is a romance writer known for her realistic and relatable characters. Her books have finaled in multiple contests, including the Carol Awards, the RITAs, and RT Magazine’s Reviewers’ Choice Award. A native of California, she and her husband now make their home in Lexington, Kentucky, where their family and their crazy Jack Russell terrier keep them on the go. Learn more at her website: www.victoriabylin.com.
Books by Victoria Bylin
Until I Found You
Together With You
Resources: bethanyhouse.com/AnOpenBook
Website: www.bethanyhouse.com
Facebook: Bethany House
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