by Kimberly Rae
Joe’s eyebrow went up. “It was sweet that Mr. Ryan let me do his hair, too.”
All eyes turned his way and he laughed. “Enough of all this mushy stuff. I came for the cake.” He pointed toward the church fellowship hall. “Which from the looks of the crowd, if we don’t get there soon, there won’t be any left.”
Jainey punched him in the arm. “Leave it to you guys to not care about anything but the food.”
“Not all of us guys only care about food.” Karl was still looking at Jainey.
She sent a shy smile his way. “Actually a piece of cake does sound good.”
His smile was surprised. “Well, let’s go then.”
****
“Are you still sure a double wedding was what you wanted?” Ryan spoke near the flower pinned into Kayla’s hair, just behind her ear, running a chill of pleasure down her back.
“We got married, didn’t we?”
“You bet, Mrs. Cummings.”
“Then, yes, it’s exactly what I wanted.” Kayla put her arms around her new husband and smiled at the aahs coming from the newly arrived teen girls. “Aunt Lavender couldn’t keep her fingers out of wanting to plan our entire reception, and to be honest I didn’t feel much like doing the same for her, so it just made sense for me to plan the wedding, her to plan the reception, and us to share the experience.” She kissed him. “Not to mention, it kept her busy so she’d stop telling every person in town how she was the one who set us up in the first place and how someday she was going to write a book about it.”
Ryan looked over to where Laverne Bloom — Lavender Blossom — Lavender Bradley now — giggled at some joke her tall husband had just shared. “I’m not so sure she’ll be writing that many books anymore. Seems she’s kind of busy with the real thing.”
“Hmm.” Kayla put her head against Ryan’s chest. “Me, too.”
“Speaking of, my beautiful wife.” Kayla loved the sound of that word. “We’ve got a honeymoon to get to. Let’s get this reception going, Mrs. Cummings. We’re wastin’ daylight.”
Her laughter pealed through the room, filling it with joy and love.
“Whatever you say, Mr. Pastor. I’m all yours.”
His look sent shivers of delight dancing all through her. “You certainly are.”
Ryan put his arm around his new bride, and they gazed across the room, filled with loved ones and friends. Even Kayla’s father seemed to be enjoying himself, across the room sampling the cake with Pastor O’Conner. Aunt Lavender and the doctor greeted guests with laughter and hugs. The teens were clustered together, likely concocting some plan for their getaway car or the birdseed-throwing part.
“I love you, Ryan.” Kayla nestled her head into his shoulder. “I can’t wait for our honeymoon. But I also look forward to coming back and starting our lives together here, in this church.”
“Together.” He pulled her closer. “I like the sound of that.”
She snuggled against him. “Perfect love. It casts out fear.” She looked up into eyes that looked only at her. “Thank you for showing me that kind of love.”
His voice lowered for only her. “And, with God’s help, I always will.”
“Dude, aren’t you guys supposed to, like, hang out with all us guests for awhile before you get all mushy and everything?”
Ryan laughed and Kayla blushed. “Thanks for the reminder, Joe.” He kissed Kayla once more. “Well, let’s get to our responsibilities before I start my next building project.”
“Building project?”
He leaned down with a smile. “Building the life you’ve always dreamed of.”
Her eyes lit up. “Wow, that sounded like it came right out of a romance novel.”
He grinned and kissed her. “It did. I got it from your aunt. She wrote me a list of things I should say today.”
“She didn’t!” Kayla laughed, punching his arm like Jainey would, until he kissed her again, this time slow and long.
Joe’s voice came through. “Save the mushy, guys.”
Ryan squeezed Kayla once more. “Right, Joe. Be right there!”
Kayla grinned and followed her husband toward the cake. As far as she was concerned, the life she had always dreamed about started the day his love, and God’s love, began to fill her heart, pushing the fear away.
At this moment, her heart was full.
And, as Ryan said, with God’s help, it always would be.
About the Author
Amazon Bestselling Author Kimberly Rae has lived in Bangladesh, Uganda, Kosovo and Indonesia. Like her main character, she had to leave the mission field due to health problems. Also like her main character, when single, she had many “helpful” people try to set her up with relatives, friends or even strangers! Rae has been published over 250 times and has work in 6 languages. She now lives with her husband and two young children in the foothills of the Blue Ridge Mountains.
Rae’s three books on international human trafficking and missions (Stolen Woman, Stolen Child, Stolen Future) are all Amazon Bestsellers. Other books include, Sick & Tired: Empathy, Encouragement, and Practical Help for those Suffering with Chronic Health Problems, and Laughter for the Sick & Tired. Find out more at www.kimberlyrae.com.
Also From Astraea Press
Chapter One: Two Days before Christmas
I scrolled the words Dear Santa across the page. For crying out loud, how stupid is this?
“Come on, Mom,” Nicole said, placing a long fold in her letter. “It’s not that hard.”
I dropped my pen on the table. “It’s hard if you’re a grown-up.”
“Just write down what you want.” She bent and tucked the folds together, molding her letter into a perfect origami star.
“But I don’t want anything.”
Nicole held up her creation, scratching a freckled cheek. “Everyone wants something.” She fastened a paperclip to her star and hung it on the Christmas tree. The matte paper stood out from the bright glass ornaments.
I ran my fingers across my bare neckline. I’d love to have back the ornate silver and gold necklace that Nicole broke a few months ago, but I couldn’t write that. It would hurt her feelings.
“I’m too old to be writing to Santa,” I announced.
“Then write to God. He listens too.”
I narrowed my eyes. Stinker. “Okay…” I placed my pen on the sheet and crossed out Dear Santa. “Okay. Dear God.” I sighed. “It’s not helping. I still don’t know what to ask for.”
I threw my long, dark ponytail over my shoulder and tapped my pen across the sheet, leaving a wavy line of dots marring the clean, white-lined paper.
Nicole shook her head, jostling her auburn locks. “Come on, Mom. Just write something. It’s God. He already knows what you want.”
“Then can He tell me?” The rumble of the school bus granted me a temporary respite. “Grab your lunch.”
“Got it.” She tossed the brown bag into her backpack and grabbed her jacket off the back of the chair. “See you later, Mom.” The screen door slammed behind her, rattling the knickknacks on the shelf beside the door. The frigid December air swirled through the kitchen, pushing the paper across the table.
I tossed my pen to the side and poured myself another cup of coffee. Liquid heaven rolled down my throat. Well, day-old reheated liquid heaven. I tossed the rest down the sink. Coffee Stop drive-through here I come. I popped the last bit of toast into my mouth and grabbed my car keys.
The nearly empty sheet of paper shifted across the tabletop as I passed by. The words Dear God taunted me.
Writing the letter didn’t seem like a game anymore.
Dear God… it doesn’t get more serious than that.
What do I want? I hadn’t thought of it much since Bill took off on us. The pressure of being both Mommy and Daddy left little time for thinking about me. What I wanted was for Nicky to be happy. Nothing else seemed to matter.
I eased back down into my chair, picked up the pen, and began tapping it on
the paper again. Another line of scrolling black dots appeared across the sheet. What do I want… really? My wrist flicked, and I wrote the word please.
I stared at the letters, and before I knew it a sentence had formed. Fifteen little words stared up at me, the blue ink solid and demanding on the white ruled page.
Permanent, but ridiculous.
It’s not even what I want. I crumpled the letter into a ball and tossed it over the counter. It scooted across the beige surface before slipping off and falling into the trashcan.
Done.
I’m too old for Christmas wishes anyway.
****
A sip of my mocha skinny latte caressed my tongue. I stretched my neck, waiting for my computer to boot up. The sounds of laptops hitting desks and fellow office workers greeting each other bounced off the five-foot partitions separating the workspaces.
I smiled as the familiar rumbling roll of my best friend’s chair ended in a bang against the outer wall of my cubicle. The papers thumbtacked to the tan, mottled fabric gyrated until a white-cuffed hand gripped the panel and stopped the movement.
“Today is the best day ever,” Jack said, rolling his chair into my cubicle with a push of his perfectly polished wingtips.
“And why is that?”
He placed an elbow on my desk and leaned on his fist. His deep blue eyes twinkled. Even sitting down, Jack’s six-foot frame dwarfed me. “Because I scored Monica Dubin for Secret Santa.”
A shudder ran down my spine and tingled its way to my toes… partly from hearing Monica’s name, and partly in relief that I hadn’t picked her. “You’re excited about that? She always bad-mouths what she got after New Year’s.”
“Well, not this time.” Jack ran his fingers through his carefully sculpted brown hair. “Don’t you get it? This is my big chance. How long have I been waiting for this?”
“Since the seventh grade. I know. You’ve mentioned it twelve times.” I shook my head, wispy brown tendrils bouncing at my cheeks. “Jack, she’s never even given you the time of day.”
“Well, she’ll have to now, or when we reveal ourselves at the Christmas party, she won’t get her present.”
“How can you be such an optimist?”
“Because I believe that a positive attitude can make anything happen. Why are you such a pessimist?”
My right eyebrow inched up. “Because I’ve been around long enough to know better.”
“You know what, Jilly-Jill? I think you’re afraid to be happy.”
I straightened. “What is that supposed to mean?”
“I know it’s been tough on you and the munchkin since Bill took off with that bimbo, but it doesn’t mean the next guy is going to be a scumbag too.”
“I don’t think that.” I lowered my gaze, my stomach churning.
“No? Then why did you turn down Jason in accounting when he asked you to dinner?”
“Because his ex-wife divorced him for cheating.”
“Okay, bad example.” He rubbed his chin. “And Steve?”
I looked away. The thought of Steve’s sparkling smile and tight butt left my heart racing. “It didn’t feel right.”
“Didn’t feel right? Shucks, I’m straight and I’d do him.”
I snickered. “No chance. He’s out of your league.”
“So you do like him.”
“Yeah… I’m just…”
“Scared?”
My face flushed. How did Jack always manage to get me to talk about my feelings? “Okay. I’m guilty. I’m scared, okay? It’s not only me who’ll be hurt again if I make another bad decision. I have Nicole to worry about too.”
He shook his head. “Come on. You’ll never get anywhere if you don’t even try.”
“I don’t know.”
Jack’s eyes lit up, his expression beaming. “I have an idea.”
“I don’t like that look, Jack. It always gets me into trouble.”
He picked up the unopened Secret Santa envelope lying on my desk and tapped the red foiled writing on the back of his hand. “I happen to know that Rachel and Eleanor got each other, and Amanda got Giles, and Jason got Amanda.”
“I thought this was supposed to be Secret Santa.”
He chuckled. “Copy machine talk. You just gotta connect the dots.” He stood and paced the two and a half steps it took to get from one side of my cubicle to the other. “Elaine has me. I can tell by the way she looked at me this morning.”
“She always looks at you like that. She’s hot for you.”
“Don’t remind me. That leaves Steve, Larry, and Cole… all of who are single. This leaves a wide open door for you.” He punched me playfully on the shoulder. “This could be the year for both of us, Slugger!”
“I don’t know, Jack.”
He waved the envelope in my face. “Do you want to see who the lucky guy is, or shall I?”
“Give me that.” I stood, grabbing for the letter.
His mischievous grin returned. “Only if you promise to hang out at the Christmas party and make a little time with whoever’s name is on this card.”
“I’m not promising anything.”
“Promise,” Jack demanded, waving the envelope just out of my annoyingly petite reach. Blast his height.
“Okay, I promise.” I plucked the envelope out of his hand and waved the gold-trimmed writing in his face. “This better be Steve, or I’m going to spit on you, I swear.”
He shook a finger at me. “No, no, no… spitting in the office is grounds for formal corrective action, you know.”
I pushed his chair out of my cubicle. It glided across the hall and right through his office door. “Don’t you have work to do?”
His shoes clopped on the tiled floor as he left. “That’s okay. I don’t need to know. I’ll find out at the copy machine next week.”
I plopped into my chair and glanced at the log-in prompt flashing on my screen. My fingers swept over the keys and pressed enter. The red envelope sat beside my keyboard, beckoning.
“Okay,” I whispered. “I might as well get this over with.” I slipped a letter opener through the edge and set the golden postcard free. A deep breath prepared me as I turned the card over.
The letter opener fell from my hand and clanged on the floor. The reverberation echoed through the office, and someone down the hall yelled, “You’re gonna hafta pay for that.”
I placed the card down and rubbed my eyes, but it didn’t have the magic effect I’d hoped for. Beautiful calligraphy letters spelled out the last name I expected.
Jack Acres.
****
The scent of cheap perfumes slapped my face as I pushed open the bathroom door. I resisted the urge to turn and leave. The girls’ club posed and fluffed before the mirrors, primping like prom queens rather than secretaries and accountants.
“Good morning.” I smiled. Not that they’d notice me, them being lost inside their gossiping gaggle. I opened a stall door and slipped inside.
I peered through the crack beside the hinges. Monica’s perfectly sculpted butt jutted out as she leaned toward the mirror to apply her lipstick. Her tight skirt enunciated all those curves God forgot to give me and blessed her with in abundance. An envious sigh slipped from my lips as I sat down to do my business.
“So,” Monica said. “I got Steve for Secret Santa. I can’t wait to give him my present.”
My stomach sank and flipped.
“What are you getting him?” Elaine asked.
Monica giggled. “I was thinking of lingerie.”
I cringed. So much for Steve. How could I compete with someone so beautiful?
“So, who got Jack?” Elaine asked. “That’s a pipe I’d like to tap. I saw him at the gym the other day. I’m telling you, that boy’s hiding some major pecs under that conservative suit of his.”
“Mmmm,” Monica said. “I wouldn’t mind a piece of Jack myself. He’s the perfect pop and drop date.”
“Pop and drop?” Surprise touched Elaine’s
voice.
“Yeah, you know… great for a good time, but not good enough to marry. He’s cute enough to screw, but I need a little extra padding in the wallet to turn me on for more than a one night stand. You know what I mean?”
Amanda giggled. “You are wicked, girlfriend. I wanna be you when I grow up.”
You are grown up, you idiot. I stood and readjusted my slacks.
“Well, you can’t have both Steve and Jack,” Elaine said. “You need to leave a little for the rest of us.”
I leaned up to the crack once more. Monica fluffed her golden locks in the mirror. What I wouldn’t give for her curls, her curves. I mean, really God, couldn’t you have just given me a few ounces of her boobs? Shoot… I’d take any part of her over my boring body.
“Well, I’m six for six at getting laid at the Christmas party,” Monica said. “So who should I do this year?”
Did she just say what I think she said?
“Flip a coin. I get the loser,” Amanda said.
“Okay. Heads Jack. Tails Steve.”
I rubbed my face as I heard a coin hit the floor. The gaggle cried out in the same instant and began high-fiving each other. I stretched up and down the crack in the door trying to see the coin, but Amanda picked it up and slipped it in her pocket.
The girls’ club streamed from the bathroom, leaving Monica smoothing her skirt and checking her butt in the mirror. I squeezed my hands into fists, my nails biting into my flesh.
Monica posed, smiling at her reflection. An innocent expression crossed her face. “Oh, Jack… I’ve wanted you ever since we were partners in science class.”
Oh, no.
Her face changed back to the witch I knew so well. “He’ll go for it,” she whispered. “They always do.”
I leaned back against the cold metal wall, holding my breath. Monica’s heels tapped on the tile work until the door squeaked open and shut.