Truly Yours Contemporary Collection December 2014

by Joyce Livingston, Gail Sattler, Joyce Livingston

  GAIL SATTLER lives in Vancouver, British Columbia (where you don’t have to shovel rain) with her husband, three sons, two dogs, five lizards, and countless fish, many of whom have names. She writes Inspirational Romance because she loves happily-ever-afters and believes God has a place in that happy ending. Visit Gail’s Web site at www.gailsattler.com.

  Dedication

  Dedicated to Sandie, for whom crocheting will never be the same. Thanks for everything.

  A note from the author:

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

  Gail Sattler

  Author Relations

  PO Box 719

  Uhrichsville, OH 44683

  Copyright

  ISBN 1-59310-242-9

  Copyright © 2004 by Joyce Livingston. 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 Truly Yours, an imprint of Barbour Publishing, Inc., PO Box 719, Uhrichsville, Ohio 44683.

  Our mission is to publish and distribute inspirational products offering exceptional value and biblical encouragement to the masses.

  All Scripture quotations are taken from the King James Version of the Bible.

  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.

  One

  Sylvia Benson hid behind the potted palm and tried to remain calm. Her intense gaze riveted on the man and woman seated at a table for two in the far corner of Dallas’s trendy Fountain Place Avanti Restaurant. Hadn’t her husband told her he would be having lunch with one of his key advertisers today? That’s no advertising client! That’s Chatalaine Vicker, the woman who writes the society column for his newspaper. I’d recognize that gorgeous face and body anywhere. What is he doing here with her?

  “More coffee, ladies?”

  Caught up in staring at the blond beauty seated across from her husband, Sylvia hadn’t even noticed the waiter standing by their table, coffeepot in hand. She flinched, then covered her cup. “None for me, thanks.”

  The other women at the table, all friends from her church, bobbed their heads at the man without even a pause in their conversation.

  Still trying to remain inconspicuous, Sylvia shifted her position slightly. Making sure the potted palm shielded her, she took another look at the pair in the corner. Surely, Randy hadn’t lied to her. Not her Randy. Although he had been spending more time than usual at the Dallas Times office, occasionally even working weekends. Come on, Sylvia, give that husband of yours the benefit of the doubt, she told herself as she stared at them. Maybe his client had to cancel their luncheon appointment at the last minute. But even if that were true, what would Randy be doing with Chatalaine? And why hadn’t he told her he would be free for lunch? After all, she was his wife. If he had wanted someone to go to lunch with him, she could have cancelled her luncheon appointment with her friends.

  She leaned back in her chair and tried to shake off her suspicions. It’s probably all perfectly innocent, and I’m making something out of nothing. Business associates have lunch together all the time. Maybe they’re discussing Chatalaine’s column. After all, Randy is the Times’s managing editor.

  “What are you looking at, Sylvia?”

  Sylvia turned quickly toward the question and found her friend, Sally, staring at her. “Ah, nothing. Just thought I recognized someone.”

  Sally rose, placed her napkin on the table, and picked up her purse. “I’m going to the ladies’ room. Anyone want to go with me?”

  Without missing a beat in their conversation, Denise and Martha rose and headed for the ladies’ room, still talking.

  Sally gave a slight giggle. “You’re not coming?”

  “No, I’ll wait here. You go on.”

  “Don’t let that waiter get away if he comes with the dessert cart while we’re gone,” Sally said with a mischievous lilt. “I need chocolate.”

  Sylvia snickered. “You’re terrible!”

  She waited until her friends were out of sight, then turned and tipped her head slightly, parting the palm fronds again and peering through them. What she observed went a long way toward fueling her suspicions. The two were talking and giggling like two teenagers. If this is supposed to be a business luncheon, those two are enjoying themselves entirely too much! Maybe I should just march right over there and confront them, ask them what they’re doing together, and see what kind of an explanation I get.

  However, she didn’t. Her pride would not allow it. Instead, she decided to wait until later, when she and Randy were alone. She sat there quietly, her nerves French-braiding themselves while all sorts of scenarios played themselves out in her mind. She flinched when the waiter filled her water glass, his close proximity pulling her out of her thoughts.

  “Would you like to see the dessert cart, ma’am?”

  “Ah—in a minute maybe.” She motioned toward the hallway off to the left. “As soon as my friends come back from the ladies’ room.”

  When he nodded and moved away, Sylvia twisted in the chair, unable to resist another peek. Randy was standing beside Chatalaine now, extending his hand to assist her as she rose. How long had it been since he had done that for her? Things were not looking good.

  From behind her potted palm camouflage, she watched the attractive couple move across the restaurant toward the exit. After giving them enough time to reach the parking lot, she signaled the waiter and asked for her check.

  I wonder how long this has been going on? She drummed her fingers on the table. You’re making too much of this, Sylvia. There’s probably a perfectly reasonable explanation as to why your Randy and that woman had lunch together. She dabbed at her misty eyes with a tissue. If you confront Randy about this now, you may be sorry. Tomorrow is Thanksgiving, and the children will all be home. You don’t want to ruin Thanksgiving for your family with your unconfirmed suspicions, do you? At least wait until DeeDee and Aaron go back to college. Then, if you still think there may be something going on between your husband and that woman, you can ask him.

  The plan sounded logical. But, at this minute, she felt anything but logical. Both she and Randy were Christians. Randy would never go against the commitments they had both made to God on their wedding day. Or would he? Had his faith slipped, and she had been so busy, she hadn’t even realized it?

  “He hasn’t brought the dessert cart yet?” Sally slipped into the chair, eyeing Sylvia with a grin.

  Sylvia scooted her chair back and placed her napkin on the table. “I—I really need to go home.”

  Sally’s brow creased. “Go? You and I haven’t even had time for a little girl talk. What’s your rush? I thought you said you didn’t have any plans for this afternoon.”

  Sylvia reached for her purse, pulled out a couple of dollar bills, and dropped them on the table beside her plate. “I’m sorry, Sally. We’ll talk more next time we have lunch. I’ve developed a splitting headache.”

  Sally gave her a slight giggle. “Hey, that’s the line we use with our husbands, not our girlfriends.”

  Sylvia frowned as her hand rose to finger her temple. “I’m really sorry, Sally. I hate to duck out on you like this, but I need to get home, take something for this headache, and lie down. Please tell Denise and Martha good-bye for me.” She didn’t have a headache before seeing Randy with that woman, but witnessing them together—after he had told her he was meeting with a client—had brought on a doozy.

  Sally’s face sobered. “Oh, sweetie, I’m sorry, I was only kidding. Do you feel like driving home by yourself?”

  “Sure, I’ll be fine. Don’t worry about me.” Actually, I’m miserable! Though Sally was one of her best friends, she simply could not reveal her unproven suspicions about her husband.

  When he came home from his office, it was
all Sylvia could do to keep from screaming out at Randy and asking him about his lunch with Chatalaine. But for the sake of the twins, DeeDee and Aaron, who had arrived home from college that afternoon, she kept quiet, pasting on a smile and brooding within herself. She had a difficult time even looking at Randy.

  She waited expectantly at bedtime, hoping he would mention it. But he didn’t. Even when she asked him how his day went, he simply replied, “Fine. Routine, just like any other day.” Then he crawled into bed and turned away from her.

  Okay, if that’s the way you want it! Don’t tell me. She yanked the quilt up over her head and gritted her teeth to keep from screaming at him, telling him she had seen the two of them having a cozy lunch together.

  After a sleepless night, she crawled out of bed earlier than she’d intended and began to go mechanically through the tasks of baking the turkey and preparing the rest of their very traditional meal. Her mind still on the events of yesterday, she took out her anger and frustration on the celery stalks and onions as she mercilessly chopped them up on the cutting block.

  Randy came into the kitchen about eight, his usual pleasant self. He rousted Aaron and DeeDee and even teased Sylvia about the bag of giblets she’d left in the turkey she’d prepared for their first Thanksgiving together as husband and wife. About eleven o’clock, their oldest son, Buck, and his wife, Shonna, arrived, bringing two beautiful pecan pies Shonna had baked. Randy greeted them warmly, then dragged both Buck and Aaron into the den to watch a football game while the three women finished setting the table.

  “Is something wrong?” Shonna stared at her mother-in-law while removing the gravy boat from the china cabinet. “You’re pretty quiet this morning.”

  DeeDee nodded her head in agreement. “Yeah, Mom, I noticed that, too.”

  Is it that obvious? “I’m fine. Just had a hard time getting to sleep last night.” Sylvia forced a smile. It was nice having Shonna and DeeDee there to help her. “Maybe we’d better use that big serving bowl, DeeDee. Hand it to me, would you, please?”

  By one o’clock, the Benson family gathered around the lovely table for their Thanksgiving feast. With everyone holding hands, Randy led in prayer. As he did at every Thanksgiving, he thanked God for their food, for the willing hands that prepared it, and for their family seated at the table. Sylvia found it difficult to keep her mind on his words. All she could think about was her husband having lunch with that gorgeous blond. Was this all for show? Inside, was Randy wishing he could be spending Thanksgiving Day with Chatalaine?

  After he had consumed the last crumb of pie on his overloaded dessert plate, Randy pushed back from the table and linked his fingers over his abdomen. “Great Thanksgiving dinner, hon. The turkey was nice and moist, just the way I like it. As usual, you’ve outdone yourself.” With a tilt of his head, he gave her a slightly twisted smile. “If my mother was alive, she would agree, and you know how picky she was.”

  “Thanks. That’s quite a compliment.” Sylvia nervously shifted the salt and pepper shakers, finally placing them on either side of the antique sugar bowl, a prize possession that had belonged to her mother-in-law. Oh, Randy, how I hope I’m wrong! I know we haven’t had much to do with each other these past few years, but surely that didn’t drive you into another woman’s arms.

  “Sorry, Mom. DeeDee and I have to go.” Aaron tossed his napkin onto the table and nodded to his sister.

  “You have to go this early?” Sylvia dabbed at her mouth with her napkin. “You just got here yesterday.”

  The good-looking young man, who looked so much like his father, gave her a quick, affectionate peck on the cheek. “I know. But you knew we’d planned to get back to school right after our meal. DeeDee and I promised we’d help our youth director with the lock-in tonight, and we’ve got a ton of stuff to do to get the fellowship hall ready before the kids get there.”

  “Great dinner, Mom.” DeeDee pushed back from the table. “I hate to run and leave you and Shonna with the dishes, but if we don’t leave now, we won’t make it.”

  Sylvia rose and walked to the door with her children, with Randy following close behind. “I’m glad you’re both active in the church you attend, but isn’t there someone else who could—”

  “Hey, DeeDee and I are the lucky ones. Most college students don’t live within driving distance of their homes. Besides, we have to get back to our jobs.” Aaron threw a playful punch at his father’s stomach. “Maybe this old man’ll help you with the dishes.”

  Randy let out an exaggerated “ugh” before wrapping his arm around his son’s shoulders and pulling him close. “I’m counting on the two of you taking care of each other.”

  Buck shook hands with his brother, then kissed his little sister’s cheek. “Yeah, Aaron, watch after this cute freshman. I know how those college boys can be. I was one of them once,” he added with a chuckle. “Come to think of it, maybe I’d better have DeeDee keep an eye on you since you’re a freshman, too.”

  Both Aaron and DeeDee kissed Shonna, then picked up their backpacks from the hall bench and headed for the door.

  Sylvia followed them, then kissed each one on the cheek, giving them a hug as she struggled to hold back her tears. “I really hate to see you leave, but I’m so thankful the two of you get home as often as you do. It’s just that—”

  Grinning, Aaron tapped the tip of his mother’s nose. “I know. You love us.”

  “We love you, too, Mom.” DeeDee nudged her father with her hip. “You, too, Dad.”

  The two stood in the open doorway waving as their two precious children crawled into Aaron’s beat-up old van. “Promise you’ll drive carefully!” Sylvia called after them before its door slid closed.

  “We gotta go, too, Mom.” Buck motioned his wife toward the door. “Shonna’s parents are expecting us. Can you believe we’re gonna eat two Thanksgiving dinners today, and her mom’s nearly as good a cook as you?”

  Shonna rolled her eyes and pelted her husband with a pillow from the sofa. “Don’t let my mom hear you say that, if you expect to win brownie points with her.”

  Randy and Sylvia watched until Buck’s car was out of sight before shutting the door. For the first time since the restaurant incident, she was alone with her husband, and she felt as nervous as a tightrope walker wearing hiking boots.

  Randy moved through the family room after grabbing the heavy Thanksgiving edition of the newspaper that lay on the hall table. “I wish the kids hadn’t had to rush off. I really miss them and all the noise they make when they’re here.”

  Sylvia followed, scooping up the pillow Shonna had tossed at Buck. With an audible sigh, she placed it back in its proper place on the sofa. “I like the kind of Thanksgivings we used to have, before they grew up. Thanksgivings where we spent the entire day together, just enjoying one another’s company.” She allowed the corners of her mouth to curl up slightly and managed a nervous chuckle. “I didn’t even mind you and the boys spending most of the afternoon in front of the TV watching football.”

  He gave her another twisted smile; this one she did not understand. Was his demeanor sending up bells of alarm? Signals he hoped she would catch? He seemed nervous, too. Ill at ease. Was he going to tell her that he, also, had to rush off? Was he planning to spend the rest of the day with his girlfriend, now that their children had gone? Girlfriend? That word struck horror in her heart and made her lightheaded.

  “Those were good days, weren’t they?” Randy pulled the newspaper from its bright orange plastic wrapper, tossed it into his recliner chair, then moved into the dining room. As he stared at the table, almost robotically he reached for the salt and pepper shakers and placed them on a tray. “But things change, Syl. People change. Life changes.”

  What does that mean? She began adding cups and saucers to the tray, eyeing him suspiciously. “My, but you’re philosophical today.”

  Randy nodded but did not comment and continued to add things to the tray. His silence made her edgy. She wanted to reach ou
t and shake him. Say something. Tell me about your lunch with Chatalaine! Give me some excuse I can believe! “Would you like another sliver of pumpkin pie?” she asked, biting her tongue to keep from saying something she might later regret. What is it the scripture says? A tiny spark can ignite a forest fire?

  “No, thanks. It was great, but I’m full.” He picked up the tray and headed for the kitchen.

  “More coffee? I think there’s still some left in the pot.” She quickly gathered up the remaining silverware and followed.

  “I’ve had plenty.” He placed the tray on the counter, then sat down at the table. “Want me to help you with the dishes?”

  Sylvia glanced up at the big, round clock on the kitchen wall. The one Randy had given her for Christmas two years ago. An artist friend of his had painted the words, Sylvia’s Kitchen, across the face in bold letters and had even added a tiny picture of her where the twelve should’ve been. She had cried with joy at the thoughtful gift. Even now, with the tenseness she felt between them, just looking at the clock brought a warm feeling to her heart. “No football on TV?”

  He shrugged. “I don’t want to watch TV.”

  She pasted on a smile and counted his options on her fingers. “You don’t want pie. You don’t want coffee. You don’t want to watch the game. But you want to help me with the dishes?”

  Randy straightened in his chair and placed both palms flat on the table in front of him, his gaze locking with hers. “What I really want—” He paused and swallowed hard. “Is—is a divorce!”

  Two

  Sylvia’s breath caught in her throat. All she could do was stare at him in disbelief. Her heart raced and thundered against her chest. This can’t be happening! Please, God, tell me I’m dreaming!

  “I—I didn’t want to hurt you, Syl. But I couldn’t think of another way to tell you other than just blurting it out like that. I’ve been trying to tell you for weeks.”