Truly Yours Contemporary Collection December 2014

by Joyce Livingston, Gail Sattler, Joyce Livingston

  She tilted her chin indignantly. “You needn’t bark at me because of it. Your God is the one who allowed it to happen.”

  “I’m well aware my family’s welfare is of no concern to you but someday—even though I have no idea how—I’m going to see to it that my child gets rid of that awful thing. I don’t want her to have to go through her high school years feeling like she is a freak. And don’t talk to me of what God would do. You’ve made it perfectly clear you have no use for God in your life. How would you know what God would or would not allow?”

  Her hands went to her hips. “What did God ever do for me? Where was He when my father was beating me? Beating my mother? Or beating Eileen? If He were real, He should have stepped in and protected me. I’m a good person. I’ve worked hard to get where I am. I’ve done all of this by myself. It’s about time I get the recognition I deserve!”

  “It’s about time you grew up, El, that’s what. The world does not revolve around you and your business. Some of the rest of us actually have a life. You’d do well to get one for yourself.” He whirled around and moved quickly through the door, slamming it behind him, nearly knocking the coffee cup from Ruthie’s hand as she stood outside the door.

  Ruthie snickered. “Were you actually hollering at our royal highness? I could hear you clear out in the hall.”

  Bob felt a flush rise to his cheeks. “She always knows how to push my buttons. Sorry.”

  Ruthie placed her cup on her desk then sat down, a smile playing at her lips. “You’re the only one I know who would dare stand up to that woman.”

  “Yeah, and I think my big mouth may have just cost me my job.”

  Four

  Bob stared at the computer screen as he sat at his desk shortly after noon, munching on the last bite of the ham and cheese sandwich his oldest daughter had packed for his lunch. Oh, El, what have you dragged me into? Building the kind of Web site you want is going to be a monumental job. I’m not at all sure I’m capable of undertaking such a large project.

  He startled when the phone rang and grabbed it up quickly, half expecting to hear El’s angry voice.

  “Her highness wants you in her office immediately.” It was Ruthie.

  “Does that mean I still have a job, or does she want me to come in so she can fire me in person?”

  A giggle sounded in his ear. “You tell me. You know her better than I do.”

  “Pray for me, Ruthie. I need this job.”

  Two minutes later, after grinning back at Ruthie’s reassuring smile of encouragement, he passed her desk and entered Eleanor’s office.

  She motioned him toward the chair then sat staring icily at him for a long moment before speaking. “I’m going to ignore that little outburst of yours and pretend it never happened,” she said coolly.

  “I—I spoke out of turn. I’m sorry, but I meant what I said, El.” His heart pounded. “My family means everything to me. I refuse to have anyone, even you, ridicule me for having them.”

  The silence in the room was overwhelming.

  “I’m sorry for being so judgmental,” Eleanor finally said. “What you do with your personal life and how you spend your money is your business. I have no right to interfere.”

  “You’re special to me, El. You always have been and you always will be. I care about you.”

  “I care about you, too.” She gave him a shy grin, dipping her head slightly. “I’ve never told you, but when that invitation to your wedding arrived at my dingy little New York apartment, I sat down and cried.”

  Bob felt his eyes widen at her unexpected statement. “Cried? Why?”

  “I—I always thought—someday—the two of us—”

  “Two of us would what?”

  “I know it was silly to have such feelings. After all, I’m the one who left for New York, never planning to return to Newport, but I always felt you were mine and that you’d always wait for me—in case I ever decided to get married and settle down. I never dreamed you would meet and marry Lydia.”

  Awed, Bob floundered for words. “You actually—uh—thought—”

  “About marrying you? Spending the rest of my life as your wife? Oh, yes. You’re the only man I’ve ever truly loved, but I wanted big city life—a successful career. I couldn’t stay in Newport, and you had no desire to leave. I—I wasn’t cut out to be a small town wife. I wanted bright lights, designer clothing, and expensive jewelry!”

  He let out a pent-up sigh. “And I could never have given you any of those.”

  Eleanor rose and moved gracefully around her desk, placing her hand on his shoulder. “No, you couldn’t give me any of those things, but you could have given me the one thing I’ve craved, needed most, never had, or been able to buy.”

  Bob frowned, confused by her words. “What’s that?

  “Love. Unselfish, sacrificing, enduring love. It’s the one thing that has eluded me all my life. How I envied Lydia.”

  “You never told me!”

  She gave his shoulder a tender pat. “I know. And by the time I was forced to let go of my dream and come back to Newport, hoping you and I could get together, you were married to Lydia.”

  Bob found himself speechless. El had actually loved him? It was all too much to comprehend.

  “She was the fine, upstanding Christian woman you deserved. From what you said, a Bible-believing, God-fearing woman. I was, and still am, nothing like her. She was the perfect match for you. Then, because you were good enough to help me get a job at Scrooge’s, I met and married Everett Scrooge, and my life changed. Finally, I had the status and financial standing I’ve always craved. I loved him like a good friend, but never as a husband, and he knew it.”

  His heart went out to her. How little she knew of the real meaning of life. “You may have achieved those things, El, but you’ve missed so much. I had Lydia’s love. I have my children and a God who loves me and died on the cross for me. I know I will spend eternity in heaven with Him because I have confessed my sins and accepted Him as my Savior.”

  She threw her head back with a harsh laugh. “You? A sinner? That’s a joke. Robert Rachette never did anything wrong in his life!”

  “God’s Word says all have sinned. That means me, you, everyone.”

  “I don’t think of myself as a sinner.”

  “But you are a sinner, El. I’m not calling you a sinner. God is. He’s the one who made the rules.”

  “Look at you! You’re telling me you love a God who would put a terrible red birthmark on your daughter’s face? And then not give you the money to have it removed? I don’t want a God like that. Who would?”

  “I may not have the material things that are important to you, but I’m rich and blessed beyond belief.”

  “Don’t be too sure of that.” She moved back to her tapestry upholstered desk chair and stood behind it, her hands cradled over its rounded back. “You’ve never tasted of the joys satisfaction, wealth, and renown can bring. It’s a heady feeling of security like nothing else. For the first time in my life, I can have anything I want. Can you say that?”

  “But not love. You said it yourself, El.” Bob stared off in space, avoiding her accusing eyes. “No, I can’t say that, but my God owns the cattle on a thousand hills, the wealth in every mine. As our loving Father, He gives us what is best for us.”

  “Oh? Does that mean He’s going to pay for your daughter’s treatments?”

  God, give me the wisdom to answer El as You would have me answer. I want to be a witness for You. “I honestly don’t know, El, but if it is His will that Ginny have that birthmark removed, He will provide a way to have it done. I have to trust Him.”

  As if uncomfortable with the direction in which their conversation was moving, Eleanor motioned toward the door. “You’d better get back to your office so you can wrap up things with your assistant. I’m expecting your full, undivided attention toward the creation of Scrooge’s new Web site beginning tomorrow.”

  Relieved she hadn’t called him in
to fire him, Bob stood and smiled. “Be sure you have that list ready.”

  ❧

  “I’ll have it ready.” Eleanor watched as the lean, handsome man moved out the door of her office, closing it gently behind him. The years had been good to him. Though the cinnamon-colored hair at his temples was beginning to show signs of silver, and he’d been through more than most men have to go through in a lifetime, he still had the same boyish expression she remembered from their childhood. Little Bobby Rachette. The best friend a girl could have.

  Absentmindedly, she rotated the huge diamond ring on her left hand, barely noticing the faceted colors reflecting beneath the glow of her desk lamp. She’d been telling him the truth about envying Lydia, even though she was sure he hadn’t believed her. What would her life have been like if she’d stayed in Newport, married Bobby, and settled down to raise the family she’d always known he wanted? Would she have been content to exist on a lowly accountant’s salary? Live from paycheck to paycheck? He would have wanted children.

  Would she have been a good mother? As good as Lydia? Or would she have resented Bob and the deprived life they would have shared? Maybe their marriage would have ended in divorce. She shuddered at the thought. Divorce! She hated that ugly word. How many times had her father threatened her mother with that word? Reminding her that his unemployment check and the money he sometimes won gambling were the only things that kept food on the table and a roof over their heads?

  Food? Their food had amounted to only a few paltry staples, barely enough to satisfy their growling bellies. And a roof? Even that leaked. Why hadn’t her mother realized there were other choices for them? Why hadn’t she taken her and her sister to a shelter? Asked for help? Gone on welfare?

  El smoothed at her designer suit then squared her shoulders and lifted her head. No, she’d made the right decision when she’d left Bob behind and moved to New York. Though she hadn’t made her fortune there, she had experienced a different, sometimes satisfying lifestyle, and coming back to Newport when she did, had been perfect timing. She’d begun work at Scrooge’s, met Everett Scrooge and married him, and now she was the sole owner of his home, his financial holdings, and his business. She was Mrs. Eleanor Scrooge, the envy of most of the women of Newport.

  Facing her computer and opening up the document titled “Ideas for My New Web Site,” she began to type. Tomorrow, she and Bob would begin putting together the new www.Scrooges.com Web site. Just the idea made her creative juices tingle.

  The next two weeks went by rapidly. Both Bob and Eleanor worked from seven to seven daily. Many times, she watched him copy work over onto his speed drive before leaving his office so he could transfer the day’s work over to his home computer and work on it that night. She was sure he was working until the wee hours of the morning, but he never complained.

  ❧

  “I’m really pleased with the overall look of our Web site,” Eleanor said one morning as they tried several different background color combinations.

  Bob took his eyes off the computer screen long enough to look up at her. “But?”

  She frowned. “But?”

  He let his gaze go to the keyboard. “Usually when you give me a compliment, it’s followed with a but—and then you tell me the way you think something could be improved.”

  Her index finger went contemplatively to her chin. “I was wondering if we shouldn’t change the font. The one you’re using is a bit too masculine.”

  “Do you want something more feminine, or do you want one that’s easy to read?”

  “I really like this one.” She pointed at the list of fonts on the screen.

  Without looking up, he gave his head a shake. “Too many curlicues and tails on the letters.”

  “What about this? It’s a nice font,” she said, pointing at another.

  “Nope. Same thing. You have your choice between these two.”

  Eleanor leaned over his shoulder, grabbed hold of the mouse, and highlighted the word Scrooge, then selected another from the font menu. Instantly the plain word took on a unique, more feminine appearance. “How’s this?” she asked sweetly, seeming pleased with herself.

  “For the logo only?”

  Smiling, she bobbed her head.

  He twisted first one way and then the other, squinting at the word then smiling approvingly. “I like it. But only for the logo.”

  El clapped her hands together. “Deal!”

  Completing the rest of that section of the Web site proved to be even more difficult than he’d expected. Eleanor always had a better idea on the way things should be done and let him know it. Her lack of knowledge about site building and designing drove Bob crazy as he tried his best to give in to her demands and still produce a quality product.

  “It won’t work that way, El!” he told her late one afternoon after a particularly trying day. “You want the impossible!”

  Her chin jutted out as her hands went to her hips. “You can do it, Bob. I know you can. You’re just being obstinate.”

  He leaped from his chair, nearly knocking it over. “Then you sit down there and show me how, Miss Know-it-all.”

  Eleanor glared at him, her chin still set defiantly. “I’m paying you to design the Web site and get it running. You’re supposed to be doing it the way I say you should!”

  Pacing about the room in exasperation, he raked his fingers through his hair. “I warned you I wasn’t a pro at this. What you are asking is impossible. Why can’t you see that?”

  “I have faith in you, Bobby.”

  Though he tried to be mad at her, suddenly she was the eight-year-old girl again. Vulnerable and trusting, sure he could move mountains. “Okay, you win. I’ll call a friend of mine who works for a top PC manufacturer. If there is a way to do what you ask, he’ll know how to set it up.” He reached out and took both her hands in his, giving them a gentle squeeze. “But you have to get out of my hair. I can’t work with you leaning over my shoulder every second. I need breathing room. I can’t think with you so close beside me. Don’t you have other things to do? Like run your business?”

  She took on a coy smile. “Do I distract you that much?”

  He gave his head an embarrassed nod. “You know you do. You always have. Now go!”

  Eleanor leaned toward him and kissed his cheek. “If you insist, but I’ll be back. You can’t get rid of me that easily. Remember, this is a joint effort.”

  He grinned. “Yeah, you own the joint, and I’m giving the effort. Now scoot before I—”

  A well-shaped brow rose. “Before you what?”

  “Before I call it a day and go home early. I barely see my kids anymore.”

  Eleanor backed away with a hearty laugh. “That’s some threat! Is that the best you can do?”

  He chuckled. “Oh, you’re challenging me?”

  She hurried toward the door and grabbed hold of the knob. “No! No challenge. You’d leave early just to show me who is boss. I’m going. Keep working. We need to get that Web site online by the first of October.”

  Smiling victoriously, Bob gave her a salute. “Okay, boss lady. Go bother someone else.”

  Once she had closed the door securely, Bob lifted his face heavenward. Lord, let my light shine before El, and help me to get this Web site done. I miss my kids, and I think they miss me. I’m in way over my head. Only You can keep me afloat.

  ❧

  Eleanor leaned against the closed door. There was not a shadow of a doubt in her mind that Bob Rachette had her best interest at heart.

  “He’s one of the good guys, isn’t he?” Ruthie asked as she approached Eleanor with a letter that needed her signature. “You’re lucky to have him.”

  “Yes, Bob is one of the finest men I know.” Straightening and taking on her usual business stance, Eleanor nodded, reached for the letter, and signed it. “Now get this letter in the mail. I want it to go out today.”

  “The mail has already been picked up.”

  Eleanor gave the woma
n an impatient glare. “Then take it to the post office on your way home!”

  With only a grunt Ruthie accepted the letter.

  Eleanor waited until Ruthie had disappeared down the hall, then turned back to Bob’s office door, her fingers running over the nameplate that said Robert Rachette, Chief Accountant. “You are one of the good guys,” she said in a mere whisper. “But like the old cliché says, ‘Good guys usually finish last.’ Too bad you had to burden yourself with a family at such an early age. You could have made it to the top. You’re capable of much better things. Why couldn’t you ever see that?”

  “Maybe he is at the top! Right where I want him.”

  Eleanor turned quickly, surprised to find she was the only one in the outer office. Everyone else had left for the day. Who had said that? Had she imagined it? She quickly surveyed the area once more, but no one was around. “I must be tired,” she said aloud. “My mind is playing tricks on me.”

  For the next few weeks, most of Eleanor’s concentration was spent on the newspaper and television ads she had purchased to tout the new Web site, leaving Bob to work on it alone and uninterrupted. Though she popped into his office a number of times a day, usually with a tip or two on how she thought the Web site could be improved, she pretty much left any final decisions to him. He always said he was proud of the work he was doing. It was the most challenging, creative thing he had ever done. Though he clearly missed the time he normally spent with his children, he told her he was thankful for the extra pay. Even though Eleanor had told him there would be no raise, the approval for a twenty percent increase in his salary had come across his desk the day after he’d agreed to do the Web site for her.

  ❧

  “The old girl isn’t as thoughtless as she wants folks to believe,” he told Kari, his eldest daughter, one night as he sat at the table waiting for her to heat up his supper. “I just wish she’d had a chance to meet you and the other children.”

  Kari made a face as she opened the microwave and pulled out his plate. “Why? I thought you said she didn’t like kids.”