Faithfully Yours

by Lois Richer

  Her heart was full of excitement and anticipation and wonder but she tamped it down ruthlessly. Just because she had given up on her desire to stay single didn’t mean that Jeremy had also had a change of heart recently.

  But after all, God did work in mysterious ways. Didn’t He?

  As the newlyweds drove off to the jangle of cans, Jeremy grasped Gillian by the shoulders and turned her to face him.

  “Can you walk in those things?” he asked, referring to her frivolous new shoes with their dangerously high heels. “Never mind,” he muttered finally, glancing around. “I know the perfect place.”

  In one smooth motion he scooped her up into his arms and carried her across the street to the church. Gillian was too stunned to do anything but stare at his sudden impetuosity. Especially with half the town watching, knowing grins covering their faces.

  The old church was deserted; everyone was still gathered at the hall celebrating. The tapers had long since gone out, but the Christmas tree was still lit and someone had turned on the light above the pulpit, sending a beam of white light down over the mass of bright red poinsettias. Their fragrance filled the burnished wooden building, reminding Gillian of the season. When Jeremy simply set her down on the pew and then sat beside her, staring at her through the gloom, she decided to start the ball rolling.

  “We should be at the hall,” she murmured finally. “The others will be wondering where we’ve gone to.” Jeremy still said nothing, gazing down at her. Gillian fidgeted in her seat, straightening her skirt nervously.

  “I owe you an apology,” he murmured. “I was wrong.”

  “Wrong,” she repeated, her brow furrowing as she peered up at him. “Why?”

  “Because I tried to change you. Tried to make you and all the others into something they aren’t. Something none of you were ever intended to be.” He grimaced, wrapping his fingers around hers. “That’s better,” he murmured softly.

  “Jeremy,” Gillian pleaded, staring into the warmth of his soft gray eyes. “Will you please tell me what you’re talking about? Why did you suddenly decide to come to the wedding?”

  His eyes glittered with satisfaction. “Because I wanted to know what it would be like when you and I get married.”

  “What?” Gillian stared at him, her eyes wide with disbelief. “But we agreed. We’ve called off that silly engagement It was just pretend, anyway.”

  “If you want to call it off, you go ahead. I’m not. I like being engaged to you, my darling Miss Langford. But I think I’d like being married better.”

  None of it made any sense to Gillian. What was he saying, for Pete’s sake?

  “I know this doesn’t conform to the usual procedure for such occasions,” he told her softly, tugging her closer beside him. His fingers slid smoothly over hers as he cradled her hands in his. “But for once, I’m going to make my own rules.”

  He brushed the tendril of silky hair off her forehead and pressed a kiss there. And another on the side of her neck where her pulse beat furiously. Then his hands cupped her chin and his eyes stared straight into hers, melting and drawing her into their rich shining depths.

  “I love you, Miss Gillian Langford. I love you so much, I get nervous when I don’t see you for even a few moments. And I’m miserable and unhappy when you’re not there to brighten the day. I love the way you dedicate yourself to helping others whether they want it or not, and I’m sorry I tried to stop you from doing what you do best—simply being Gillian, the woman that God created.”

  Gillian felt her skin growing warm under his caressing touch, steadily, incessantly hotter until she felt like a glowing ember that basked in the radiance of a brightly burning fire.

  “I don’t know what to say,” she whispered.

  He shook his head in amusement. “Don’t tell me you’re lost for words.” He chuckled. “It’s a miracle.”

  “No.” She shook her head dazedly. “But this is.”

  “Yes,” he agreed, nodding. “A Christmas miracle from God. He taught me that in Him there is only one rule. Love. And when we love someone, that love takes care of all the other rules.”

  His finger traced the outline of his face as he spoke. “I’ve lived so long with the idea that God was a stern judge who kept a detailed tally of every little mistake we made that I lost sight of the real meaning of His love for us.” Jeremy brushed his mouth across her hand before continuing.

  “He doesn’t care if we sit or stand to sing the hymns. He doesn’t care if we have the offertory before or after the special music. He doesn’t even care if junior church gets canceled and the babies bawl all through the sermon. Most especially He doesn’t care if Faith forgets a few things now and then. He loves her as she is.”

  His face was close to hers now, his breath a whisper against the sensitive skin of her face. Gillian bemusedly slid one hand lightly over the dear hard lines of his beloved face and waited patiently for him to finish.

  “I finally realized that what we do isn’t as important as what we think,” he told her. “It doesn’t matter because I can never be good enough or strict enough or wise enough.”

  His smile was wide and tender. “It isn’t the rules or the keeping of them that’s important,” he murmured. “It’s what you’ve got inside. Forcing people to obey rules will never change that.”

  She didn’t really need to ask anymore, but Gillian knew he was just bursting to tell her. “And what is it that you have inside?” she asked softly, half-afraid to believe.

  “Love,” he crowed proudly. “For you. Big and wide and all encompassing.” His arms curved round her, pulling her to her feet and against his strong body.

  “Big enough to forgive me for all the things I’ve done?” Her question was timidly quiet.

  “My darling Gillian, there is nothing to forgive,” he told her sincerely. “I love you just the way you are.” His eyes moved over her, memorizing each detail. “God put this love in my heart and His love is never ending.”

  “But Jeremy, we’re nothing alike,” she protested mildly, hoping he’d brush away her protests.

  He did.

  “Thank goodness! I don’t want to love someone like me.” He grinned. “I know we’ll have disagreements. Everyone does. But isn’t His love enough to cover them all?”

  She would never again see this man as rigid and unbending, Gillian decided. To her he would always be Jeremy: strong and independent, determined to do the right thing no matter what.

  “I love you,” he murmured in her ear, softly but clearly.

  “That’s good,” she answered, brushing her lips against his chin. “Because I have a fair bit of that particular emotion myself. I thought maybe we could share?”

  “No way,” he muttered, glaring at her fiercely. “Not this time, Gillian.”

  Her heart dropped to the floor as she wondered if she’d been wrong once more. “Wh-what do you mean?” she stammered, staring up at him fearfully.

  His arms tightened around her once before he let her go. “I mean that you did the proposing last time, Gillian Langford. This time it’s my turn and I intend to follow, to the letter, all the correct and proper procedures.”

  He knelt in front of her, holding her hands in his, blue-gray eyes glowing with emotion. “I would very much like to be engaged to you, darling Miss Langford,” he whispered softly. “For real. With a true commitment and all the expectations for our future that entails.” His fingers tightened around hers. “Would you please marry me?”

  “Yes,” she cried, trying to tug him upward. “Yes, yes, yes.”

  But Jeremy Nivens had never been a man to be hurried and he wasn’t about to start now. Slowly, thoughtfully, he got off his knees and stood before her. His words were soft but full of meaning. “Then would you mind wearing this ring as a token of how much I love and adore and appreciate you?” he murmured. “And as my promise that I’ll never try to change you again.” He snapped open the small black jeweler’s case Gillian glimpsed in his hand.
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br />   She gasped at the beauty of it. It sparkled and glittered in the dimness of the old church like a fire that refused to be doused. Two slivers of glittering gold wound round out of the band and up around the high-set diamond, holding it between their grip protectively.

  “It’s so delicate,” she whispered, awestruck as he slipped it onto her finger.

  “It only looks that way,” he teased, smoothing back a tendril with his finger. “Rather like you. Beautiful and fragile as a flower. But inside…ah, inside, my dear Gillian, you are a pure, clear diamond.”

  “It’s so beautiful. I’ve never seen such a setting.” She held up her hand and admired it in the fading light. “I never expected this,” she said tearfully. “I never expected you.”

  “I chose this especially because it reminded me of something,” he told her smiling. “It reminds me that there are two of us, different and individual in our own right. But because of God and the love He’s given us, we will be joined as one and held in the palm of God’s hand.”

  Gillian wrapped her arms around her fiancé’s neck and hugged him as hard as she could, reveling in the touch of his tender yet strong mouth on hers.

  “Thank you, God,” she whispered, letting her eyes wing upward for a moment. “He’s so much more than I deserve or dreamed of.”

  “What are you saying?” Jeremy demanded, tipping his head back to gaze into her starry eyes.

  Gillian just beamed, letting the love that filled her heart and soul pour out on a free, unrestricted wave of undulation.

  “I’m just thanking the original matchmaker,” she whispered, pointing upward.

  Jeremy grinned. “Yes, and you can thank Arthur and Aunt Faith later,” he murmured, his lips tickling her earlobe. “Without their interference, the Lord would have had a much more difficult task.”

  As their heads tilted toward each other and they sealed their engagement with a long satisfying kiss, two elderly women watched for a moment longer from their hiding place in the vestibule and then tiptoed noiselessly out into the cold winter night “I think we can consider our Christmas projects for this year a success,” Charity murmured, clutching her friend’s arm as they negotiated the slippery streets.

  “Aren’t they always,” Hope agreed smugly. “Especially with a little divine assistance.”

  They giggled together like young girls, sticking out their tongues to catch the fluffy white snowflakes that drifted slowly down from heaven and dropped silently to earth, covering everything with a soft white blanket of peace.

  And just down the street, Faith rested her head against her new husband’s shoulder as their car sped away from town for the first night of their married life.

  “You know, Arthur,” she said happily, squeezing his hand fondly, “I can hardly wait for next Christmas. I have a real inspiration for my project next year!”

  Epilogue

  “You’re going to do what?” Jeremy demanded, staring at his wife in dismay. “But it’s almost Christmas. We’ve got the pageant to plan for and the choir to rehearse. Our new drama club starts in January. You can’t quit.”

  Gillian laughed, pressing a kiss on the tip of his nose.

  “Overachieving as usual! Jeremy darling, I intend to help you with all that, and I’ll work through into the early spring but then I’m leaving JFK. At least for a little while.”

  Jeremy sank into his plush principal’s chair and tugged her slight form onto his lap, slipping his fingers through the bright coppery strands of her lovely hair.

  “I’ve done it again, haven’t I?” he groaned, pressing his lips against her forehead. “I’ve pushed and bullied and made you fed up with me. Darling, I’m so sorry. I’ve tried, really tried not to be so…”

  She cut him off mid-sentence.

  “Jeremy Nivens, will you please let me speak?”

  Her gorgeous emerald eyes flashed with temper and something he couldn’t quite define. Some hint of excitement that teased and tantalized till he couldn’t look away.

  “Gillian, darling,” he breathed anxiously, his arms tightening around her protectively. “Please don’t tell me you’re ill.”

  “I will be,” she whispered. “Every morning apparently. For a few months anyway.” Her face softened as she lifted one hand to cup his cheek. “I’m pregnant, Jeremy. We’re going to have a baby!”

  “A baby? But I hadn’t planned on that till next year…er, that is, a baby?” He stared at her, struck dumb by the possibilities such a thing engendered.

  “Well,” Gillian huffed indignantly as a secret grin tugged at the sides of her mouth, “I am sorry that we’re ahead of your all-important schedule, but I’m not taking all the blame!”

  He kissed her then as the words sank in, holding her tightly and whispering a prayer of thanksgiving. When at last she could move, his wife wiggled around until her glowing eyes stared straight into his.

  “There’s just one thing I want to make perfectly clear,” she told him firmly. “We are not, I repeat, not having six children. That’s asking for problems.”

  Jeremy soothed her with heartfelt endearments as he placed his brown hand on her tummy.

  “I’m going to be a father,” he mumbled, his eyes a deep dark blue. “Me, a parent.”

  “Jeremy? Did you hear me? I said I’m not having six children. Two maybe. Even three. But not six. Jeremy?” The last word came out on a sigh of delight as her husband tugged her mouth down to his.

  “We’ll talk about it,” he whispered tenderly. “Negotiate. Discuss both sides of the issue and come to some understanding. After all, we’ve gotten rather good at it, don’t you think?”

  “Mmm,” she sighed. “I guess love is all about compromise, isn’t it?” She grinned impishly. “Would I be compromising your male ego if I told you to shut up and kiss me?”

  “I think you’d be perfectly justified, my darling Gillian. And I’d be perfectly happy to oblige.”

  And he was about to when a new idea suddenly struck.

  “You know Faith is going to say she planned the whole thing, don’t you?” he murmured, fingering her engagement ring and the gold band that protected it. “She’s been talking about her ‘project’ for weeks now.” His happy grin belied the dourness of his words.

  “I’m happy to have her and the others share in it,” Gillian answered, snuggling a little closer. “After all, everyone needs a little Faith, Hope and Charity. Right, darling?”

  Jeremy agreed wholeheartedly with her astute assessment of the situation.

  “Yes, dear.”

  And then he kissed her.

  *

  Dear Reader,

  Thanks for picking up Faithfully Yours. In case you didn’t know, this book is the first in a series of three that I’ve entitled Faith, Hope & Charity. These three lovely ladies came into my imagination of their own accord and stayed around with the agreement that I pay specific attention to what they will and will not tolerate. They have given me much to think about as I pondered the majesty of God’s plan for each person on this earth and His love specifically tailored for every individual.

  I hope you enjoy Gillian and Jeremy’s story and their struggles to search for the loveliness that is sometimes hidden beneath the surface. Can it be that we often miss the best in another because we too readily see only a bad temper or ragged clothes? If we would but look beneath the surface, we would see such beauty in the souls of others.

  Please feel free to contact me at Box 639, Nipawin, Saskatchewan, Canada, SOE 1EO. I’d be happy to hear from you.

  In April ’98, look for A HOPEFUL HEART, Book 2 of Lois Richer’s heartwarming Faith, Hope & Charity series!

  Faith, Hope & Charity: Visit the charming town of Mossbank, North Dakota where three matchmaking ladies devise romance for three young couples—but never expect to walk down the aisle as well.

  Only from Love Inspired.

  Just turn the page for an exciting preview…

  A Hopeful Heart

  Melanie Stewa
rt slipped out of her battered tan car and slammed the door shut, hoping it would catch.

  “You’re doing fine, Bessie, old girl,” she murmured, patting the ancient car’s rusty fender lovingly. “I know. You need a paint job and new tires, but that will wait. It has to.”

  She grimaced at the thought of the sheer number of high priority items on her to-do list that seemed to multiply daily. Oh, for a little spare cash!

  “The love of money is the root of all evil,” she repeated to herself. “Remember that and be glad for what you have.”

  With a sigh, Melanie blew the sticky auburn bangs away from her forehead, resigned to both her penurious state and the blistering July heat.

  “Just a few dollars would sure be nice, though.” She sighed, glancing heavenward. “Just a little spare cash would make a big difference to so many.” Unbidden, the images of the residents in the nursing home where she worked rolled through her mind. “Give me a sign, Lord, please,” she pleaded in a heartfelt prayer. “Just a little hint that better things are on the way.”

  “Oh, Melanie!” Mr. Jones strode jauntily down the street toward her, whistling his usual happy tune as he pushed his delivery cart. “Afternoon, Melanie, my girl.”

  Fred Jones was a genial man who had been Mossbank’s special delivery officer for twenty years. He knew everyone in town and most of what went on. Melanie had long ceased to wonder how he kept all the gossip straight.

  “This looks pretty important, Melanie. Thought I’d better bring it over soon as you got off work,” the older man said as he thrust an ordinary white envelope with—OFFICIAL NOTICE—stamped on the front of it, into her hand. “It was addressed to the nursing home but I knew you’d be coming home about now. Sure hope it’s good news.” He grinned.

  His wiry tanned hand offered the shabby clipboard for her signature.

  She turned the plain white envelope over. There was nothing to identify it on the back. She peered at the strange letters on the front upper left corner. PJPB.