by Jillian Hart
“He’s past the worst of it, thank the Lord. God has been very gracious, sparing my Albert so we can be together.” Pamela halted between the chin-high rows of books near the back of the store and held her hand out toward the rows of devotionals on tidy shelves. “Here are the devotionals, dear. Let me know if I can help you chose one. I’ve got plenty of suggestions if you need them.”
“I’ll be fine, thank you. My daughter gave me a few titles to search for.” Debra swallowed against the tightness in her throat. “I’m glad your husband is improving.”
“He’s a testimony to the power of prayer.” A tear pooled in the woman’s eyes and she swiped it away. “Pardon me. Goodness, life can test your mettle at times. Give me a holler if you need anything.”
“I will.”
Debra watched the sweet woman go. Pamela had the work life of Debra’s dreams. The older lady took her time strolling down the rows, stopping to straighten a book on a shelf here or to swipe a bit of lint off the top of the glossy bookshelves there, or ask another customer if they needed any help.
Life had been so busy for her for so long that she’d forgotten that hardship came to everyone. There had been no mistaking the love the shop owner had for her husband and for her life here in this lovely little shop, working beside him. A place like this couldn’t turn much of a profit, but then, maybe profit ratios and projected returns held little meaning when it came to having a dream.
She felt that dream now, the one so long buried for a life like this one. She loved the way quiet instrumental Christmas music played from the overhead speakers and how the scent of coffee and tea and baked goods drifted from the little café in the corner. She breathed in the smell of new books—one of the best scents in the world, in her opinion. Her eyes smarted. Longing filled her heart with such sore wanting, she felt ashamed. She was a grown woman, in her thirties, a mother of a teenage girl, a vice president of a prestigious and respected publishing house and dutiful daughter to both the Cunningham and Watson branches of her family. As her mother had said so long ago, she should not settle for so little.
As she watched Pamela move about the little store, content and smiling, this did not seem like so little, but like very much, indeed.
A testimony to the power of prayer. Pamela’s words stuck with her as she found the title Mia had asked for and wandered through the store. Debra had heard that phrase so much lately, it was starting to infiltrate her thoughts. The power of prayer. She’d dismissed such wishful thinking long ago, when she’d been so bleak and alone and when her prayers went unanswered.
Her wavering faith wasn’t a result of bitterness or anger at God; it was more like hitting a dead end in a road. There was a big yellow sign and guardrail blocking her way and she could not turn left or right. That’s what her faith had come to. There seemed to be nowhere to go with it.
But it hadn’t always been that way. As she stopped at the children’s section to browse for Christmas gifts for Olivia and Joseph, she remembered when she’d been younger. That was when her life had been sweet and safe and sheltered. She’d had faith, then, and she believed in prayer and a loving God watching over her.
Once she’d had many secret dreams alive in her heart.
Those pesky tears were in her eyes again at the yearning for the chance to turn back time, to go back to that place in her life and hold more tightly to the girl she’d been. To the young woman who believed in the things that could not be seen, only felt.
Was that part of her gone forever?
She didn’t know, but she thought she caught a glimpse of that hopeful Debra buried deep inside as she lingered in the aisles full of books so lovingly shelved.
Since she had actual time on her hands, she chose a book for herself on the way to the coffee bar at the other side of the shop. She was in no hurry to head back to the inn and room service.
“Hi,” said a teenaged girl from behind the spotless counter. “What can I get you?”
She glanced at the reader board high on the wall behind the teenager. “A large hot chocolate, please. Can I have whipped cream with that?”
“Sure.” The kid got right to work.
Debra set the pile of books down on the counter and unzipped her purse. She fingered through the bills in her wallet, looking for a five.
“I’ll get that, pretty lady.” A familiar baritone rumbled behind her.
Jonah. She looked up and there he was, looking cool—as Mia would say—with his coat unbuttoned and speckled with snowfall. “This is a coincidence. I didn’t expect to see you again so soon.”
“Imagine that.” He tugged his wallet from his jeans back pocket and strolled closer. “Gina, make that two hot chocolates.”
“Sure thing, Jonah,” the girl said, her dark ponytail bouncing as she nodded.
Debra pulled out a fold of dollar bills and slid them into the tip cup. “Mia begged me to stop and pick up a new devotional for her. She pleaded. It was the most important thing ever.”
“That’s why you’re here?”
“Yes. What about you?”
He looked contemplative as he dropped a ten on the counter in exchange for the two large whipped-cream-topped cups. “I have a secret bookstore habit.”
“Shocking.” She followed him away from the counter. “I have a serious bookstore habit, too, when I have the time for it.”
He glanced over his shoulder at her, amusement twitching in the corners of his mouth. For a moment it looked as if he were judging his chance of keeping his distance, and then he shrugged. “Something else we have in common. What books have you got there?”
“Nothing interesting.” She hugged the stack of books to her to hide the one title she didn’t want him to see, as they headed to one of the empty tables. “I picked up gifts for Olivia and Joseph, mostly.”
“Uh, I caught sight of one of the books.” The twitch in the corner of his mouth turned into a full-fledged grin as he set the cups on the table closest to the window. “I didn’t know you were a romance reader.”
“Inspirational romances are one of my few indulgences.” She went to pull out her chair and suddenly he was there, holding it out for her. It was no easy task to hold her feelings still as he towered beside her, bringing with him the scent of winter snow and cozy pine. “It’s an occupational hazard, I guess. And a family one. I grew up surrounded by books.”
He waited while she settled into the chair and helped her to scoot it in. She was touched by the gesture. As if she didn’t admire him enough. Jonah Fraser was a gentleman through and through.
“Ben said that your publishing company is one of the big ones. It’s been in your family for generations.”
“Yes. I don’t work with books, though. I would probably be happier at my job if I did.”
“Then what do you do exactly?” He moved away to take the chair on the far side of the table. “I know, you sit in a high corner office, taking meetings and delegating, don’t you?”
“I’m more of a glorified bookkeeper.”
“I don’t believe that for one second.”
“It’s true. I spend my entire very long, sometimes twelve-hour workday with profit-and-loss statements, cost reports, production reports, projected earnings, monthly expenses, etcetera, etcetera. If they can make a spreadsheet on something, then it’s on my desk.”
“That doesn’t sound like much fun.”
“It isn’t. Don’t get me wrong. I am very thankful for my job and everything it allows me to afford for Mia.” But there was the bookshop in the background, behind Jonah’s shoulder, with the polished wood shelves and browsing customers and colorful book spines lined up carefully. There was that yearning again, at the bottom of her heart where she’d banished it. It wasn’t the only yearning there. She did her best not to look directly at Jonah. It made that sweet and innocent longing she felt for him a little easier to ignore.
He studied her over the rim of his cup. “Tell me about your dreams, the ones you didn’t follow.”
She s
wirled her finger into the mountain of melting whipped cream. It was hardly a mannerly thing to do but she lifted a dollop of the sweet topping with her finger and licked it, the way she used to do when she was little. She’d spent too much time on lost dreams today and her spirit ached like a chipped tooth. “Dreams? I hardly remember them anymore.”
“I know how that feels.” He took a long sip and wiped the marshmallow mustache from his upper lip. “There’s another thing we have in common.”
Although he was smiling, it wasn’t a real smile. He looked lost. It was the saddest look she’d ever seen on anyone. She remembered what he’d said about being a marine and serving the greater good. She wondered what had happened to bring him home and if it had something to do with his serious limp.
“What dreams have you lost?” she dared to ask.
He set his cup down on the table and stared into it. She could see the fall of his hair and the cowlick at the crown of his head. She didn’t think he was going to answer her. Her heart skipped a beat. She was afraid he was going to get up and leave.
When he spoke, a dark emotion resonated in his baritone like a bell’s final toll, an emotion that spoke of deep pain. “Remember when I said that life never turns out the way you expect?”
She nodded. She would never forget the day she’d first laid eyes on him. How the gray daylight had burnished him like a dream from her heart.
There she went, thinking of dreams again. Clearly, Jonah was not a dream meant for her as, she’d discovered, many dreams were not.
She cleared the disappointment from her throat. “Were you talking about being a soldier?”
Grief marked his handsome face. “I love my country. I’m proud to have served. It was what God called me to do.”
And the leg injury? She clamped her lips together to hold the question in. She could feel the depth of his pain as if it were her own. She could read the shadows in his eyes and his strong heartfelt pain settled like a shroud over hers. He bowed his head and looked down at the whipped cream melting over the side of the cup.
What had happened to him? She wondered. She watched the news. She read newspapers. It was her job to keep up with current events and trends of books on the market. Her family’s company had published several nonfiction accounts from soldiers’ experiences in war.
She thought of all the tragedy Jonah could have seen with his own eyes. She thought of all the tragedy that could have happened around him in war. To him. And she remained silent, waiting. The last thing she wanted to do was to make him hurt more. She knew deep pain could be easier to manage if you kept a tight lid on it. It had to be dealt with one day, but now was clearly not the time. Nor, she suspected, was she the right one for him to tell.
So she waited, to allow him to wrestle the pain back down. She waited for him to say what he needed to say, if anything. Although he wasn’t interested in her romantically and there were a dozen reasons why she shouldn’t be interested in him, there was something there between them. Something she couldn’t put her finger on. Some reason her heart kept feeling drawn inexorably by his.
He broke the silence with a bittersweet smile. “Here I’ve let the conversation take a turn for the worse. When I saw you, I came over because I had a few questions for you.”
“For me?”
“Sure. I wanted to know how it’s going with Ben.”
Disappointment washed over her. As if she needed more proof he wasn’t interested in her. Debra inwardly groaned. If there was something between them, then it was all on her side. Hadn’t she been there before? It took all her strength to keep the memory of Mia’s father at the back of her mind.
She cupped her hands around the cup of steaming hot chocolate for comfort. “Ben. That’s a topic that’s both complicated and as simple as can be.”
“A paradox, huh? Explain, please.”
Debra took one look at the compassion on Jonah’s rugged face and gathered up a little more of her strength. “I came here only for Mia. The last few years have been difficult in our family with Mom’s death and wrestling with that. She and I hadn’t been on good terms for a long time. When Mia went off to school in Massachusetts in September, it divided us more than I imagined.”
“You two seem close, despite that issue.”
“Finding out about Ben has helped bring things back to the way they were between us. Almost.” Deb held back the more personal things Jonah probably didn’t want to hear. About how the rift between her and Mia had begun to feel like the rift she’d had between her and her own mother through her teenaged years. Culminating in the painful, final rift that had changed their relationship forever.
She took a trembly breath. “Finding out about Ben was a shock. My mom was a very strict and devout Christian. We never knew this secret she was hiding. That she’d had a baby out of wedlock and had given him up for adoption. She was so proper, so unerring in her life as a wife and mother, that I simply can’t imagine it, even now.”
“It must be hard,” he said quietly and with compassion. “You can’t sit down and talk it out with her.”
“Exactly. It’s raised up more pain and old issues in a way that—” Hurt. She held back the word. She didn’t want to be so honest with Jonah. Surely his interest in her answer concerned his friend and his boss, not her troubles. “Ben is wonderful. His wife and children are completely lovable. They already feel like family. I’m so glad Mia prodded me into visiting them.”
“Caring about them is the simple part. I get that.” Jonah took a long sip of chocolate and studied her with his wise, dark eyes. “What about the complicated part you mentioned? You’ve been through a hard time, I can see it.”
His words knocked the breath out of her. Maybe this connection and what she felt between them was simply nothing more mysterious than the fact that they’d both been deeply hurt in different ways. Rain fell into everyone’s life, as her mom used to say.
Maybe that was the reason she felt so drawn to Jonah and it was nothing more complicated than that. Relief breezed through her, making it easier to open up. After all, they were just two people sharing stories. That was all.
“Fine, but don’t say I didn’t warn you. It’s complicated and personal.”
“Hey, I’m a marine. I can handle anything.”
She didn’t doubt that. But how did she find the right words? “My brother and sister knew nothing about Ben. My mother never told us. There was not a hint. There was nothing to prepare us. Nothing to begin to make sense of her deception.”
“She might not have known how to bring up something as painful as giving up a baby,” Jonah suggested. “Wasn’t she one of the people being blackmailed by Barnaby Harcourt?”
“Yes.” She hurt for her mom.
“That had to have been terribly frightening for her—fearing the people she loved most might not understand.” His compassion warmed his voice.
She was right about him. He had a big heart. A good heart. She admired him even more. “Those are exactly some of the things I wish I could talk to Mom about.”
“There’s no way to lay the past to rest between you. So it just keeps haunting you.”
“Yes. Exactly.” He understood. Debra blinked against the hot pressure pressing at her eyes. No one had seemed to understand. Not her sister, not her brothers and not even her father. She’d been alone with her feelings, struggling with them as they built and built. Until they began to harden like a husk inside her. She hadn’t realized how much she’d craved a little understanding.
There was more of the story to tell. She studied the man before her, big and rugged-looking and as reliable as a wish. She knew he might understand.
She ran her finger over a pattern of the grain on the wooden table top. “Mom was a good wife and mother. When I was Mia’s age, I wanted to grow up to be just like her. She seemed sure of every step she took. She didn’t look right or left, she didn’t wonder or worry. She took a stance, made a decision and that was it. Her faith was deep and unwaverin
g. But one day everything changed between us.”
“Tell me.”
She couldn’t look at him, trying to figure out the words to use. How did she explain how confused she felt? It left her torn up, the way she loved her mother dearly and at the same time, she was so angry for the lies. For the secrets. “I was her daughter. We were close. I told her all my secrets and sorrows. I don’t understand why she didn’t tell me hers when she had the chance. And believe me, when I was in college, she had the perfect chance to tell me.”
She glanced between her lashes to peek at Jonah’s response. To see if he caught on, or if she would have to talk about the time in her life that hurt all these years later.
“I can do the math.” Jonah spoke carefully, his rugged baritone. “If Mia is thirteen, then you had to be fairly young when she was born.”
“Yes. I—I wasn’t married at the time.” She focused on a knothole in the wood. It was easier to get the words out that way. “I was in college, in love and talking about marrying my first very serious boyfriend.”
“So, you married him?”
Jonah’s question surprised her like a slap to her face. Of course he would assume such a thing and that made it harder. Deep inside she could still feel the shattered illusions of the trusting, sheltered, naive college girl she’d been. A girl who saw only the good in the man she loved with all her soul.
She watched him through her lashes again so she could read his response and lowered her voice. “You’re a minister’s son. You might have a different opinion of me once I admit that, no, I didn’t marry Jeff. I wasn’t engaged. I was young and I went against the values I’d been raised with.”
“Everyone makes mistakes.”
“Even you?”
“Especially me.”
She didn’t believe it. He’d probably done nothing wrong in his life. He had a noble heart. “I let myself believe that being almost engaged wasn’t much different than being married. We would get there eventually, right? But when I discovered I was going to have Mia, I learned there was a big difference.”
“He didn’t stand by you?”