by Lois Richer
“Whoof, that was some landing. You okay?” David’s curious face peered down at him.
“Bruised,” Jeremy returned acidly. “And probably damaged for life, but fine.” He hoisted himself to his feet with all the elegance of a lumbering elephant and dusted off his new jeans. “It’s very hard,” he told the boy grimly.
“Yeah,” David laughed. “Ice usually is.”
“I didn’t mean that. I meant learning how to skate. I don’t think I’m coordinated enough for this.” Jeremy glanced bitterly at the frolicking youth around him and gingerly set one foot in front of the other as he headed for the gate. “I’ve had enough.”
“No way,” David yelled and swooped up behind him, pressing gently from behind. “Now just relax and let yourself glide,” he ordered, laughing. “I’ll do all the work until you figure out your balance.”
Before he killed her, he’d kiss her senseless, Jeremy decided, unable to do anything but let the wind whistle past his ears as his young instructor propelled him across the ice at the speed of light. It was Gillian Langford’s fault that he was out here, endangering life and limb with a bunch of ungrateful kids. Bad enough that he had agreed to help with this youth group, but now she’d left him alone with them.
That was what usually happened, he reflected grimly. People generally left him and expected that he would manage. And he usually did. But it sure wasn’t easy. But sometimes he found himself wishing he had a little help. Fortunately he’d had a lot of practice at going it alone in life, he told himself sternly, tamping down thoughts of his would-be fiancée and how much he missed her.
A picture of Gillian’s happy, laughing face thrust itself into his mind, and he wondered how she would manage to make this cold, hard ice a positive experience. Or shed humor on the fact that he was being shoved around the ice like a sack of potatoes. She’d have a field day with that!
Somehow, thank God, he and David managed to avoid the other skaters as they moved around the edge of the oval rink. But all the same, Jeremy found himself clutching the boards with relief whenever he got near enough. Which wasn’t half as often as he wanted.
“She’s really going to pay for this,” he griped as David whizzed him over a little nearer to the opening in the boards.
“Who?”
“Gillian,” Jeremy spat out grimly. With extreme attention to detail, he stepped carefully toward the edge, lifting one foot in front of the other and promptly landed on his rear with one skate bent uncomfortably under his other leg.
“I told you, slide don’t walk. Why is Gillian gonna get it?” David demanded, hauling him to his feet and nodding as Jeremy began to slip and slide across the ice like an acrobat. “She already knows how to skate. I saw her teaching the girls a double toe loop the other day.”
“She’s good at everything, isn’t she?” Jeremy sighed. He brushed a hand across his snow-covered pants. “And I feel like an idiot. I’m going in,” he said defeatedly.
David followed behind like a little puppy intent on trailing its master. “Just relax for a minute or two and then try again,” he suggested. “It’s not really that difficult, and it doesn’t take a whole lot of skill, you know. Just practice.”
“I hate skating,” Jeremy told him childishly and then wished he’d kept his mouth shut. Why was it that everything the woman did managed to make him look like an incompetent, old-fashioned idiot?
“Gillian would show you how, if she was here,” David told him seriously. “She’s really good at teaching people things. And she never makes fun of you. I like that about her.” He tugged a candy bar from his pocket and shucked the paper off in one wrist motion. “Want some?”
Jeremy shook his head and the boy popped the entire bar into his mouth. Seconds later he was talking again. “Like the other day when I was telling her about this friend of mine. Well, she’s not a close friend. Not yet. But she could be. Maybe. Someday.”
Jeremy prayed fervently that this wasn’t going to end up in a counseling session. He had no practical experience to offer the boy when it came to women. He didn’t understand them himself and he certainly didn’t want to try to explain them to someone else; especially not a teenager.
So he kept silent. Which didn’t seem to faze David in the least.
“You see, Myra’s pretty cool, for a girl. Or she could be. But she’s always snapping her gum when she talks. That gets to me.” He glugged down half a bottle of soda and continued. “She’s smart and funny but I get tired of always hearing the same jokes over and over.” He stopped, obviously waiting for him to comment, Jeremy decided, and mentally added another point to the list of items he’d bombard Gillian with when she returned.
“D’ya think I should tell her about the stuff she does that bugs me?”
David sounded dreadfully unsure and Jeremy searched his mind for an answer. There wasn’t one. “Uh, well, I guess if you want to be around her and something she’s doing is bothering you, you should explain that and ask her to stop.” There, that sounded okay, he decided.
“She’s got this laugh, you see,” David muttered, staring at his feet. “I mean she’s really a good friend and everything. She even helped me do a physics assignment that was totally Greek to me. But that laugh.” He shook his head dismally.
Jeremy felt inspiration strike and turned toward the boy excitedly. “Maybe you should tell me what it is that you like about her,” he said helpfully. Thank you, God. I would never have thought of that.
David’s forehead drew together in perplexity. “I dunno. Lots of stuff. What do you like about Gillian? Besides that she’s a babe.”
“A what?” Jeremy stared at him aghast.
“A babe, a dish. You know—” he grinned “—easy on the eyes.” He made a motion with his hands that Jeremy understood to mean Gillian’s well-formed figure.
“Yes, Gillian is very lovely,” he conceded absently, thinking about the vivacious, beautiful woman he was supposedly engaged to. Thinking about the way he felt every time he set eyes on her.
“Yeah, but she’s no ditz,” David agreed thoughtfully. “You gotta admit she’s smart, too. An’ she hasn’t always had it so easy. My sister heard her telling one of the girls that when she was little she was pretty sick. Her parents got her to take up sports to build up her strength.”
“Oh.” Jeremy considered the information in a new light. For some reason he’d always thought Gillian had lived life on a bed of roses. Now it seemed that she, too, had experienced her share of problems.
“So what else do you like about her?” David pressed. “Like don’t you think it’s cool how she always thinks up cool things for us to do? She doesn’t care if I dress differently or wear my hair like this. At least I don’t think so. She never mentioned it.”
Jeremy remembered Gillian’s generous gift to Roddy’s mother. And he recalled the way she’d gotten on her hands and knees to clean the bathroom at old Mr. Gentry’s house last week when the youth group had raised money for a missionary by cleaning homes for seniors. It did seem as if his fiancée was less interested in outward appearances than getting to the heart of the matter.
“And man, can she cook. If I ever get married, I’m picking a lady who can make pies like Gillian does. Those apple pies we had at her aunt’s house for the progressive supper were great!”
Jeremy would have liked to point out that he hadn’t been able to taste that particular pie because David had consumed half a pie all by himself, but in the end he decided not to. After all, he was supposed to be the leader here.
“Well, anyhow, what do you think? Should I tell Myra that I don’t like certain things like the way she laughs an’ stuff or should I just forget it?”
There was no room for prevarication here, Jeremy realized grimly. The kid was asking the worst possible person for advice about interpersonal relationships, and Jeremy had an idea that his own experiences wouldn’t exactly help David.
“The thing is, if I tell her she wears too much makeup and her skirts
are too short, she’s gonna get mad. And I don’t really want her to be mad at me. I like her. A lot. So whadya think, Jeremy?”
Fervently, ardently, Jeremy begged God to send Gillian to get him out of this situation. He pleaded with everything he owned, but three minutes later David still sat beside him, waiting for the pearl of wisdom to leave Jeremy’s lips and give him direction.
“Well, as I see it,” Jeremy began, feeling his way through the maze of the feminine psyche with no clue as to his destination, “people don’t generally like to hear other people talk about their faults. I mean, I don’t.” That’s for sure, he muttered silently. “So, if you really want this girl for a friend—” he glanced at the boy for confirmation and watched the dark head nod firmly “—then I think you’re going to have to accept that she is the way she is and learn to get along with that.”
“You mean deal with it,” David considered, scratching his head.
“Well, yes. Either that or find another friend. One who meets your specifications.” That sounded pretty good. Jeremy congratulated himself.
“And you don’t think I should tell her about the gum or the makeup or other stuff?” David looked doubtful, so Jeremy hastened to clarify his position.
“Well, if, someday, she should ask if you think she’s wearing too much makeup, I suppose you could tell her, kindly, what you think. I guess that’s what Pastor Dave meant in his sermon on Sunday about accepting the unlovely. Don’t you think?” He peered at David searchingly, hoping he wasn’t being sacrilegious or something.
“I guess. My mom says kinda the same thing when my sister and I have an argument and I’m trying to tell her what my sister has done. She always waits till I’m finished and then she gives me this look and says, ‘It’s not what she did, it’s what you do that counts.’ Like I’m only responsible for me.”
As the rest of the group joined them and they made their way to the park for the wiener roast, Jeremy felt the impact of David’s words impinging on his skull in a never-ending tune. It’s not what she did that counts. It’s what you do.
Over and over they rolled through his brain for the rest of the evening, even when he was alone at home, with the lights turned low. They reminded him of his judgmental attitude toward Gillian. He’d argued with her about everything, and yet she had still managed to put another person’s need in front of their bickering.
He thought of his aunt and the fear that gripped him when he considered the future without her. What would happen when he moved on, went back to England? Who would ensure that she stayed safe and protected if he didn’t look after that now, before things got out of hand? Alzheimer’s, Doctor Green had said. Progressively getting worse.
“Is it so wrong, Lord?” he prayed, pouring out his fear and worry. “Is it so terrible to want to keep her away from the dangers of life? Am I wrong to impose my will in this matter?”
The answer came seconds later in the shrill peal of the telephone. “Jeremy?” Arthur’s voice sounded strained. “You’d better come over here right away. Faith has been mugged. She needs to see a doctor.”
Cold, overwhelming dread flooded his mind as Jeremy hung up and reached for his jacket His eyes fell on the brochures that lay on the hall table describing the conditions in Sunset Retirement Home just outside of Mossbank.
He thought of his aunt, lying hurt and bleeding in the cold winter air, and rage filled him. A black, primal rage that threatened to overwhelm him. “I wasn’t wrong,” he said angrily, snatching up the forms and stuffing them into one pocket. “She shouldn’t be left alone. It’s too dangerous.”
And as he sped through the icy streets, Gillian’s sad green eyes stared back at him from the dark night sky. “It’s not what you did or said that matters,” he told her angrily. “It’s what I do now that counts. It’s my responsibility to protect my aunt and I’m going to do it.”
“Gilly, dear, are you sure you have to go back so quickly? Couldn’t you spend a few more hours with us?” Her mother’s worried gaze studied her daughter’s pale face with a knowing perception. “It’s Jeremy, isn’t it? He’s the one God has sent you.”
“Yes, I think so Mom,” Gillian whispered tearfully. “But I can’t imagine how He’s going to work this one out Especially now that Faith’s been hurt. I know Jeremy will feel that it’s his duty to get her into a home somewhere, away from everyone.” She stopped packing long enough to stare up at her mother. “He’s going to stop her wedding, Mom. I can feel it.”
“Then go back and straighten it out, Gilly. God will give you the words and the ways to do what He wants. Just keep praying.”
Three hours later, Gillian wearily clambered into her aunt’s car and demanded, “How is she?”
Hope’s face was white and strained as she faced her niece. “She’s not well, Gillian. The doctor found a tumor when they did the scan. Apparently Doctor Green missed it when Jeremy took her in for a check-up. They’re operating tomorrow.”
“So soon?” Gillian gasped at the news, gripping the door handle with fingers suddenly gone weak. “What about the wedding?”
“Faith says she’s not letting Arthur get away, tumor or no. She insists that she’s going through with it. And the doctors aren’t saying no.” Hope’s lips turned upward in the vestige of a smile. “She’s tough, Gilly. And she has God on her side. She’s convinced He has something very special planned.”
“Can I see her?” Gillian asked quietly. “Can she talk for a while?”
“We’ll go straight there. She was asking about you this morning.”
To look at her, Faith was no different from any other day, save for the fact that she had several stitches along the hairline.
“I finally get to have a beauty mark,” she giggled, hugging Gillian close. “I’ve missed you, dear. And so has Jeremy. He’s been mooning around like a lost lamb without you.” Her bright eyes twinkled merrily. “Well, piffle! Why don’t you two go and say hello properly, while I discuss something with Hope?”
As Jeremy’s hand moved under her arm, Gillian felt herself being propelled from the room. She went because she could see the stark fear in his eyes and feel the tenseness in his body.
“Come on, Jeremy,” she whispered, guiding him to a softcushioned chair in the waiting area down the hall. “Sit down. You must be exhausted.”
“I shouldn’t have waited,” he told her baldly. “Dr. Green said he wanted to have more tests done. I should have checked her in weeks ago. None of this would have happened if I’d done that.” He glared at her furiously. “You kept insisting she’d be all right. And I knew better. It’s my fault she’s in there.”
“Jeremy, Faith trusts in God. And I believe this is all part of His plan for her life. If she hadn’t been mugged by those boys, the doctors would not likely have found the tumor until it was too late.”
“It may be too late now,” he told her grimly.
“I don’t believe that, and you don’t, either,” she said sternly. “Faith is healthy and happy. She’s had some wonderful times since you’ve been here and she’s enjoyed every day that God has given her. He’s not going to let her down now, when she needs Him the most. He loves her.”
“So do I,” she heard him whisper. “And I don’t want her to die.”
Gillian’s reaction was immediate. She wrapped her arms around him and hugged him close against her body, trying desperately to infuse this man she loved with some of her own faith.
“She was always there,” he whispered brokenly. “She always knew how much it hurt not to have a regular home and a normal family. To me she was my family, and when I’m with her everything seems like it will be okay.” He looked at her, his face an agony of remorse. “I love her.”
“I know,” she whispered back. “I know.”
Gillian sat there with him for a long time, content to hold him, offering what comfort she could. And he held her, too, his arms a strong secure brace around her. When at last she drew away, she was prepared to tell him of her love,
of the longing she had to share her love with him for as long as God gave them.
“Jeremy, when I left here, I went to Boston and I thought of what you said about me trying to make you into Michael. It’s true, in a way. I did think that I could replace him…sort of show God that he hadn’t taken away everything.” She drew in a deep breath and continued, watching his back for some sign that he was listening.
“But what I discovered was that Michael is a part of my past. I loved him, yes. But he’s gone, and the love I have now is a different kind of love.” He stood there, still and unmoving.
“What I’m trying to say is that in spite of all the aunts and all their manipulations, I’ve fallen in love with you. I know we’ve argued and disagreed about just about everything over the past few months. I know that we started off on the wrong foot. But somehow, through all of that, God has shown me that what I’ve been feeling for you is far different from what I felt for Michael.” She had to get up, try to see his face. “You were right when you said I was living in a fairyland. I was. I wanted a prince to come and carry me away from the pain of losing someone. I wanted to pretend that I was forever doomed.” Gillian smiled at her own foolishness. “The star-crossed lover, if you like.”
“And now?” His words were low, hushed, waiting.
“Now I’ve come to realize that through all of our butting of heads, I’ve been forced to deal with reality and accept that you are not Michael. But that through God’s workings, you have made your own special place in my heart. I’m trying to say I love you, Jeremy. I have for a long time.”
The silence was agonizing, and Gillian could have screamed with tension. Instead, she stood silent, waiting for his well-thought-out reply. His answer was nothing like she’d expected.
“I suppose it’s natural that you would think that,” he told her baldly. “You see me as some kind of flawed character who needs your taming influence to fit into this fantasy dream you’ve created.” He smiled halfheartedly.
“You had a wonderful home, a happy family. You’re beautiful, talented. You have a way with people that draws them in toward you and makes them feel wanted; needed. And that’s good. But I am not your next fixer-upper project, Gillian.” He shook his head sadly. “I’m not your next Roddy Green.”