Truly Yours Contemporary Collection December 2014

by Joyce Livingston, Gail Sattler, Joyce Livingston

  Bob rose then extended his hand and pulled her to her feet. “You will come back again soon. You have a standing invitation, you know.” He assisted her into her coat then pulled on his own coat and led her to the door, wrapping his arm around her as they walked. “Better button up; it’s cold out there.”

  She leaned into him as they walked to the car, relishing their closeness and wondering if this would the last time he’d hold her like this. “I’ve had a wonderful time.”

  “Me, too.” He opened the car door, waited until she was seated, then rushed around to the other side. “You don’t have to do it, you know.”

  She gave him a sideways glance as he backed the car out of the driveway. “Do what?”

  “Take care of Ginny’s treatments.”

  “But I want to!”

  “God doesn’t expect works, El.”

  “I know that! Surely, you don’t think I believe I can work my way to heaven!”

  He reached across and capped her hand with his. “I didn’t mean to offend you. That was a stupid statement. I just didn’t want you to—”

  “Get your daughter’s hopes up and then desert her? Like I did you?”

  Turning away and training his eyes on the road, he nodded. “Yeah, I guess so. Disappointment hurts, El. I know.”

  “Stop the car!”

  He brought it to a screeching halt. “Why? What’s the matter?”

  Her eyes narrowed, and her face pinched with determination. “You and I need to get something straight, Bob Rachette. I love you—more deeply and honestly than you can imagine. Even though I’ve only known your children for barely twenty-four hours, I love them. But, most of all, I love God.”

  “But you—”

  “Be quiet and listen, please! I’ve changed. The old Eleanor Scrooge is dead. Dead! Do you hear me? The new Eleanor is nothing like her. The new Eleanor loves God with all her heart and wants to do His will.” She latched onto his arm and held it tightly in her grasp. “I want you, Bob Rachette! I want to be your wife! I want to be a mother to your children! I know I could never replace Lydia. I wouldn’t even try, but I would be the best mother I could be.”

  “El, I—”

  “Pride! That’s all that’s keeping us apart. Your silly, stupid, ridiculous pride. You can’t imagine being married to the woman who owns and manages the company you work for, am I right?”

  “Yes, I guess so, but—”

  “I’ve been thinking about this all day. I did a terrible thing when Everett died. As you know, Everett had three nephews—his sister’s children. Before he married me, he had it in his will that, upon his death, he was leaving each of them one third of his fortune. I’m ashamed to admit it, but the first thing I did after we got back from our honeymoon was to make sure he changed that will, leaving everything to me. Because of me and my selfishness, those nephews didn’t get a penny.”

  “I—I didn’t know.”

  Even in the dim light of the car, Eleanor could see Bob’s eyes narrow. She could only imagine what he thought of her. “Other than the nephews and Everett’s lawyers, very few people did. The nephews tried to break the will, but I’d made sure it was unbreakable.”

  “Why are you telling me this now?”

  “Because I’ve made a decision. After I find out what Ginny’s treatments, the travel, hotel, hospital, and other expenses are going to be and I’ve set that money aside, I’m going to make things right and try to undo the wrongs I’ve done. I’m going to keep Scrooge’s, but along with a sincere apology I’m going to give his nephews the rest of the estate I inherited from Everett, including the mansion. I’ve met them, Bob. Even though I’d said terrible things about them, they’re nice boys from a good family, and I know they’ll be good stewards and not squander his wealth.”

  Bob stared at her. “But why? Why would you do such a thing?”

  Eleanor scooted closer to him and gazed up into his eyes. “Because I want to be Mrs. Robert Rachette, that’s why! I’m only keeping Scrooge’s department store because you’ve helped me build it and are an important part of it.”

  He grabbed onto her arm so tightly she let out a little squeal. “El, you can’t be serious! You’d give up all that wealth to become my wife?”

  “I’d give up everything to become your wife.”

  “Oh, El, I’ve tried to fight it, but I love you so much it—”

  She quickly placed a finger across his lips. “Shh! Before you say another word, I have to tell you something else. If you’ll have me, I’m stepping down and becoming only an advisor to Scrooge’s, naming someone else to fill my place as CEO. That way I can spend most of my time with the children.”

  “If I’ll have you? You know I want you, El, but—”

  “I’m naming you the new CEO of Scrooge’s.”

  His jaw dropping, Bob reared back and stared at her. “Me? I’m not qualified. I could never be Scrooge’s CEO.”

  Eleanor poked a finger at his chest. “You, my darling, are the perfect one to take my place. You know everything there is to know about Scrooge’s finances, the business, and the new Web site. You get along with everyone, and everyone loves you. And, although you’ll be in complete charge, I’ll be available if you need me. Think about it, Bob. Think what our marriage would mean to us—to your children.”

  “But, El, do you really think you could do that? Turn Scrooge’s over to someone else?”

  “Trust me. Nothing would make me happier than to turn it all over to you. I’m tired of my life, Bob. Tired of going to work each day and coming home to an empty house.”

  “But that store has been your baby—your life. Maybe I’d do something wrong, and the sales would—”

  “Bob! Forget all those negative things! I want to be your wife! I want to be a mother to Kari, Ginny, Bob Jr., Megan, and little Janelle. Just tell me! Do you love me? Do you want me to marry you? Come on here—give me some help! I want this more than anything in the world, but please don’t make me beg!”

  To her surprise, Bob bowed his head and remained silent.

  Finally, Eleanor could stand it no longer. Almost to the point of irritation, she called out, “What are you doing? Say something. Anything!”

  With a toothy grin, he lifted his face. “I was praying.”

  “Don’t keep me in suspense! Did God give you any answers?”

  “Yes, He did.” Bob reached out and pulled her to him.

  “Quit teasing me! What did He say?”

  After brushing his lips across hers, he kissed her tenderly, then murmured, “He said I should ask you to become my wife.”

  Epilogue

  One month later

  “Venual malformations, or port-wine stains as we call them, are always present at birth and can range from pale pink to dark purple in color,” Dr. Kinard, the director of the Vascular Anomalies Team at the hospital in Little Rock explained as he examined Ginny’s cheek. “Your daughter is fortunate. Hers is one of the lighter ones.”

  “And you can treat it, right?” Eleanor asked, holding tightly to Ginny’s hand. “It can be removed?”

  Dr. Kinard leaned in for a better look. “It’s important that you know, although laser therapy is successfully used to remove a port-wine stain, the treatment will only be a temporary fix. Since the deficiency is in the nervous system, in time the blood will repool in the affected area, and the birthmark will reappear.”

  Bob nodded. “We understand that, Doctor, and we’re prepared to deal with it. So is Ginny. Aren’t you, sweetheart?”

  Ginny smiled up at the doctor. “Yes. I know it’s going to be painful, but I really want to get rid of my birthmark.”

  Eleanor bent and kissed the top of Ginny’s head. “We’re prepared to do whatever is necessary. Ginny is such a sweet child. She deserves to have a normal life.”

  “Just wanted us to all understand what we’re dealing with here,” the doctor went on. “I have no magic potions. Once a port-wine stain is lasered, it is extremely important at the
first sign of recurrence that she has additional treatments to keep it faded. She may have to have maintenance laser treatments the rest of her life. She may not. Only God knows. Fortunately, we’re getting to her early enough to, hopefully, prevent cobbling of the skin and thickening and darkening of the stain. Low-grade ones, like Ginny’s, progress at a slower rate than high-grade.”

  Encouraged by the doctor’s words, Eleanor asked, “How soon can you start?”

  “How about two weeks from Monday? That’s the earliest I can work her in.”

  “Can Eleanor stay with me while I have my treatments?” Ginny asked, clinging to Eleanor’s arm. “I—I want her with me.”

  The girl’s words touched Eleanor so deeply she began to cry. One glance toward Bob told her they had touched him deeply, too.

  Dr. Kinard bobbed his head. “Of course you can. Most girls want their mothers to be with them at a time like that.”

  Smiling, Bob grabbed Eleanor’s arm and gave it a squeeze. “We’ll both be here.”

  After the nurse set the appointment and gave them a few pamphlets to read, arm in arm, the three walked out of the doctor’s office and toward the car they’d rented at the airport.

  Bob wrapped his arm around Eleanor as Ginny, filled with excitement, surged on ahead of them across the parking lot. “Well, thanks to you, it’s finally going to happen. Ginny’s birthmark will soon be history.”

  El frowned at him. “Don’t say that, Bob. I have no reason to be thanked. We’re going to be a family, which means we’re doing this thing together.”

  “My kids love you, you know. How did you win them over so quickly?”

  She gave him a playful shrug. “I guess they could see how much I loved them.”

  He pulled her even closer and whispered in her ear. “You sure you don’t want to wait until after Ginny’s treatments to tie the knot with me?”

  Feeling as though she would burst with love for this man, she lifted her face to his and gazed into his eyes. “And take a chance on letting you get away? Absolutely not!”

  He gave her an impish smile. “Then the wedding is still on for this Sunday?”

  “Only if you’ll give me one thing.”

  Bob hugged her tight. “Me give you one thing? You already have everything a woman could wish for. What could I possibly give you that you don’t already have?”

  Eleanor tingled at his touch. It felt so good to have his arms wrapped around her. “It’s something I want very much, my dear husband-to-be, and you are the only one who can give it to me.”

  Bob responded with a puzzled expression and a raised brow. “Only I can give it to you?”

  “Yes, sweetheart, only you. No one else. And what I’m about to ask of you would make me the happiest woman in the world.”

  Still holding her tight, his puzzled expression turned into a frown. “I have no idea what you’re talking about, El, but if it is within my power to give it to you—”

  Eleanor rose on tiptoe and planted an adoring kiss on the cheek of the only man she’d ever loved. The man she’d loved since she was a little girl. Gazing dreamily into his eyes, she answered in her sweetest voice, “Nothing, except becoming your wife, would make me any happier than adding a sixth child to the Rachette household! I want us to have a baby!”

  About the Author

  JOYCE LIVINGSTON has done many things in her life (in addition to being a wife, mother of six, and grandmother to oodles of grandkids, all of whom she loves dearly). From being a television broadcaster for eighteen years, to lecturing and teaching on quilting and sewing, to writing magazine articles on a variety of subjects. She’s danced with Lawrence Welk, ice-skated with a chimpanzee, had bottles broken over her head by stuntmen, interviewed hundreds of celebrities and controversial figures, and many other interesting and unusual things. But now, when she isn’t off traveling to wonderful and exotic places as a part-time tour escort, her days are spent sitting in front of her computer, creating stories. Visit her at www.joycelivingston.com.

  Dedication

  This book is dedicated to Heartline Literary Agent Joyce Hart and her husband Jim, two marvelous people God sent into my life when my husband became ill and I really needed them. I will be eternally grateful for the way God miraculously brought the four of us together on a cruise ship to Hawaii. He is truly a God of miracles. As with every book I write now, it is also dedicated to my hero, my wonderful husband who recently went to heaven to be with our Lord. I miss you, Don, and always will.

  And I can’t forget all of you thoughtful, concerned readers who have supported me with your sweet letters and emails as you’ve learned about Don’s homegoing. Your outpouring of love and encouragement have touched my heart. Thank you for caring.

  A note from the Author:

  I love to hear from my readers! You may correspond with me by writing:

  Joyce Livingston

  Author Relations

  PO Box 719

  Uhrichsville, OH 44683

  Copyright

  ISBN 1-58660-623-9

  © 2002 by Gail Sattler. All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or in part in any form by any electronic, mechanical, or other means, now known or hereafter invented, is forbidden without the permission of Heartsong Presents, an imprint of Barbour Publishing, Inc., PO Box 719, Uhrichsville, Ohio 44683.

  All of the characters and events in this book are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or to actual events is purely coincidental.

  Cover illustration by Lorraine Bush.

  one

  “You’re finally home. What’s in the bag?”

  Phillip McLean kicked the door closed behind him, sauntered into the middle of the living room, and laid the big blue plastic bag on the coffee table. “Believe it or not, it’s a Christ-mas decoration.”

  Phillip’s best friend and roommate, Neil, shook his head, then quirked one eyebrow as he stared at the bag. “But it’s not even Thanksgiving. Why did you buy a Christmas decoration?”

  Very slowly, Phillip reached inside the bag. “I didn’t buy it, and it’s not just any decoration. It’s Granny’s angel. The one that goes on top of the Christmas tree.” As gently as he could, Phillip lifted out his family’s treasured heirloom to show his friend. “She made it herself. Isn’t it great?”

  Phillip didn’t know how something made entirely out of threads not even as thick as two-hundred-pound test monofilament fishing line maintained its solid posture, yet it did. As a child, the angel’s construction had fascinated him, and it still did, even as an adult.

  From the top of its head to the bottom of the flowing gown, the brilliant white angel stood about ten inches tall. Its intricately patterned wings extended to the sides with a wingspan of what Phillip figured had to be nearly a foot. The flowing gown was made in the same way, with a variation of complex bumps and patterns. Some kind of shiny fabric lined the gown, which added a distinct richness to it, as well as prevented any green from being seen inside the angel once it gained its place of honor atop the Christmas tree.

  The pale golden yellow hair was so soft and curly that Phillip always wondered if it was real, even though he knew it couldn’t be, which added to the fascination. Atop the angel’s head, a circle of gold beads strung on a piece of stiff wire formed a halo.

  In stark contrast to the crisp white of the angel itself, the bright, cherry-red embroidered rosebud mouth and antique china eyes gave the angel a fragile and almost surreal beauty.

  All his life, every Christmas of his twenty-seven years, except for opening gifts as a child, Phillip’s favorite part of Christmas Day was when Granny’s beautiful angel made its appearance. And now, the angel was his.

  Grinning widely, Phillip held it out toward Neil.

  Neil didn’t take it. Instead, Neil squinted one eye and folded his arms over his chest. “If it’s your granny’s, what are you doing with it?”

  “Remember, in a coupl
e of weeks Granny is moving into the senior citizens’ complex. She’s getting rid of most of her stuff because she’s going from a fully furnished three-bedroom house into a one-bedroom apartment.”

  Neil glanced around the room, then back to the delicate angel. “If she’s getting rid of her stuff, then why didn’t you take her spare couch, instead? You know. That big comfy one she has in the basement.”

  Since Neil didn’t want to examine the angel, Phillip tucked the plastic bag he’d brought the angel home in under his arm, pushed aside Neil’s coffee mug and the stack of magazines, then gently set the angel onto the center of the coffee table. “I’m getting the couch on the weekend. A bunch of my cousins are meeting at Granny’s, and she’s going to divide up all her extra furniture and stuff then. But I got to take the angel home today.” He still could hardly believe the treasured angel had found a new home, even if it was temporarily in the middle of his messy coffee table.

  “I guess,” Neil mumbled. “If you’re into that kind of thing.”

  Unable to wipe the smile off his face, Phillip lowered himself to sit beside Neil on the couch. “You don’t understand. Granny made this angel when she first got married to my grampa. She started what we do every Christmas morning when my aunt Helen was born. Granny would put a nativity set on the floor beside the Christmas tree for the whole Christmas season. On Christmas morning, when everyone arrived, Mary and Joseph would make a trek across the living room, and baby Jesus would be born in the manger in the wooden stable. Then, Grampa would lift up whoever’s turn it was to put the angel on top of the tree. Once the angel was in place, the shepherds and sheep would go to see the baby Jesus, and so would the three Wise Men and their camels. It was a real production. Playing out the Christmas story with actual figures and a ‘real’ angel really brought the message home. The birth of Jesus and the events of the day really came alive for us when done with figures we could see and touch. When my grampa finished telling the story, we’d pray and then open the gifts. The whole time, it was almost like the angel was watching over us and smiling. It always made Christmas Day even more special.”