Christie moved closer, noticing Sean’s eyelids flutter, then open. Her heart swelled at the sight.
“Chwistie,” Sean said, his voice as soft as a breeze.
“Hi, pal,” she said, drawing closer and clasping his tiny hand in hers. “Feeling better?”
He gave her a faint nod.
Christie studied the child’s face. His mottled look had faded to ivory with small rosy patches on his cheeks. The perspiration she’d witnessed days earlier had vanished.
“Water,” he said, shifting his head to look toward the tray nearby.
Christie eyed the IV still in his arm. “Can he drink liquids?”
Her mother handed her a paper cup with a straw. “The nurse said tiny sips.”
Christie cupped his head in her hand and lifted him until the straw met his lips. She lowered him again, set the cup aside and leaned down to kiss his cheek.
“I yove you, Chwistie,” he said.
She harnessed the emotion that pressed against her eyes. “I love you, too, Sean.”
Turning to hide her tears, Christie stepped away. She had to gain control otherwise she would scare the child.
Her mother grasped her hand and gave it a pat. “Sean’s doing well. Why don’t you go down and find Patrick?”
She took another look at the boy before heading through the doorway. Amazed at the feelings that washed over her, Christie calmed herself in the hallway before taking the elevator to the first floor and turning toward the cafeteria.
When she came through the doorway, she bypassed the food stations and made her way into the dining room. Patrick sat alone, his back to her. She had to stop herself from running to him. When she reached him, she felt tears well in her eyes as she smiled in happiness. “He looks so much better.”
Patrick rose and took her hands in his. “I’m so relieved.”
“I know,” she said.
He pulled out a chair, and she sat, her fingers wrapped in his.
“I was surprised to see my parents up there, but I’m not sure why. They’re crazy about Sean.”
Patrick smiled, realizing she was too, but he wouldn’t push. Not anymore. “I know they are. You have good parents. Really special people.”
“Thanks,” Christie said. “They are. And how’s your dad doing? I’m sure it’s hard on him to be stuck at home.”
“I told him I’d bring him up if Sean doesn’t get home soon. But it looks as if he will.”
“Really? When?”
“Dr. Minkin was in a little while ago and said if he keeps improving he can go home in a couple of days. Wednesday, he told me.”
“Wednesday. That’ll be something to celebrate.”
He glanced at his watch, checking the date. “Speaking of celebrating, your birthday’s in a few days.”
She shook her head. “I’m too old for birthdays. Thirty-six is nothing to celebrate.”
“Sure it is. We have two things to be happy about.”
“Three things,” she said, her face filling with emotion.
“Three?”
“I have to tell you something,” Christie said.
“Tell me something?”
“It’s about Sean.” She wove her fingers between Patrick’s and cupped them with her other hand. “I’ve tried to push him away. You know that. I’m constantly reminding myself he’s your son and another woman’s child. I can’t say I’m free from resentment, but these past days, seeing him this way, I don’t care whose child Sean is. He’s an innocent beautiful boy, and I love him, Patrick.”
Tears misted her smiling eyes—tears of happiness and revelation, Patrick knew. Joy sprang to his heart, hearing her words, and he leaned toward her and kissed her cheek. “Thank you,” he whispered.
Though he’d seen her compassion and tenderness long before she would admit it, hearing the words wrapped him in a soothing balm. Thank You, Lord. He sent his praise heavenward, knowing God was in charge and all things happened for His purpose, just as Emma had reminded him.
Patrick stood in the living-room doorway, watching his father play with Sean. All his prayers had been answered, and though Sean was still a little peaked, his energy was back and he’d run around the house as he had before he became ill. Seeing his father in good spirits with color in his face was another gift that the Lord had given him.
Patrick thought back to the troubles in his life. He’d not handled them well, and he couldn’t excuse them away. Yes, a mother was important. He’d missed having one, but he’d allowed the absence of a female in his life to let him give way to morbid fears and noxious doubts that had grown into monsters.
Hope. Patience. Forgiveness. The Lord had led him back to the living, and in the past months, he’d begun to feel whole again. Whole and ready to move ahead.
“Are you sure you can handle this boy, Dad?” he asked from the doorway.
“Sure as sunshine. We’ll take care of each other.”
“I take care of Gwanpa,” Sean said, grinning from his pile of blocks on the floor.
“Then I’ll see you later.” Patrick stepped forward and gave Sean a squeeze. “You be good.”
“I be good,” he said.
Patrick grabbed his jacket and headed to his car, his feet sliding into the ruts of the frozen earth. He started the engine, then pulled the scraper from the back seat and chiseled at the ice beneath the crusty snow. Finished, he climbed in and rubbed his hands together, appreciating the heater’s warmth.
He’d asked Christie to house-hunt with him today, and she’d agreed. His heart skipped as he thought about the day. He’d found a place he liked not too far away from his dad’s and close enough to town for convenience. His only hope was that Christie liked it, too.
She was ready when he backed into her driveway. She waved from the doorway, and in a heartbeat, slid beside him before he could be a gentleman and open the door for her.
“Ready?” he asked, feeling a grin fill his face.
“You look like the cat who ate the canary,” she said. “What have you got up your sleeve?”
“Nothing,” he said, pulling his jacket sleeves open and shaking his arms. “Empty.”
She laughed, and Patrick’s stomach tightened as he felt amazement at his joy in their relationship now that it had become a solid friendship. Hope. Patience. Forgiveness. The words rang in his head like a litany.
As he drove, he described what he wanted in a house to Christie, hoping his needs were hers.
“You already know what you want. Why do you need me?” she asked.
He ignored her question and pulled up in front of the house for sale. The realtor met him at the door.
When they stepped inside, Christie paused. “It’s lovely, Patrick.” She headed for the stone fireplace, its broad mantel flanked by two windows that looked out to a landscaped lawn. “You’ll have to hire Annie’s husband to be your landscaper.”
“I already thought of that,” he said, beckoning her into the next room.
The realtor waited in the living room while they toured the house—dining room, large family kitchen, four bedrooms, and a family room with space for a computer desk.
“What do you think?” Patrick asked.
“I love it. It has the charm of an older house, yet it’s been modernized. It’s perfect.”
“Perfect?” He gave her a smile, remembering her need for perfection. “I thought so, too.”
She grinned, obviously recognizing his wisecrack.
He closed the distance between them and guided her to the large bay window overlooking the snowy backyard. “I can see a swing and slide in that corner.”
“Sean will love it.”
“They all will.”
“They?” Her gaze caught his as a frown settled on her face. “Who’s they?”
“All of the children.”
“Do you mean…no,” she said.
He nodded. “Yes, that’s what I mean.” His pulse kicked into a gallop. “That’s exactly what I mean.”
His heart fell as he watched concern spread across her face.
“But we’ll have other children, Christie. I realize you have endo—”
She drew her hands up to her face, her deep laugh filling the silence.
Her action startled him, and he felt a puzzled frown grow on his face. “Don’t you understand?”
She peeked at him through her fingers and shook her head. “I thought you wanted me to buy this for Loving Care.”
“Loving Care?” He pulled her hands from her face and pulled her closer, wrapping his arms around her waist. “No. I had something else in mind. Us. You and me and Sean and other children—however many God blesses us with.”
Tears welled in her eyes. “You want to buy this home for us.” She placed her hand over her heart, then laid her other palm against his chest, feeling his heart beat as wildly as her own.
“If you’ll have us.” He searched her eyes for an answer, a prayer rising. “I love you, Christie. I never stopped. I just veered off course a little.”
“You said you believed the Lord did things for His purpose. I believe that. He’s had us in His loving care for so long just waiting for the day to bring us back together again.”
“Then, you mean yes?” Patrick said, holding her so close he felt her heart beating against his.
She raised her hands and cradled his face in her palms. “Yes, with all my heart.”
His lips met hers, soft and warm, like coming home. He held her close, remembering so many things they shared—her frame fitting against him like the piece of a puzzle lost but now found.
Her soft sigh greeted his ears, and he deepened the kiss, knowing that trust took time, but they had God on their side. Everything would be all right from now on.
“Happy birthday, dear Christie. Happy birthday to you.”
Christie grinned, seeing her parents standing around the Hanuman table singing “Happy Birthday.” Sean’s healthy presence added to her joy.
Christie blew out the candles with Sean’s help. He giggled, and she gave him a big hug, loving the feel of the child in her arms. If he was all God planned for her, she could live with that. God saw the bigger picture. She saw only a shadow of what was to come.
“So, cut the cake already.” Wes said.
Christie took the knife and measured out the slices while Patrick dug into the ice cream carton and plopped a scoop onto the plate for those who wanted it.
When the last piece was ready, Patrick lifted his plate in the air. “Before we fork into this cake, I have a birthday toast to make.”
“Hear! Hear!” his father said, raising his dish. “I’ve never toasted with cake, but there’s always a first time.”
“Where’s my toast,” Sean asked, studying the group with a puzzled look.
“Not toast from bread, Sean. This means a good wish.”
“A birfday wish?” Sean asked.
“Something like that.” Patrick tousled his hair and lifted his plate. “To Christie, who’s found her way back into my life. May God bless us in the years to come with complete happiness in our new lives together.”
Plates hung suspended in the air while their parents looked from one to the other with puzzled expressions.
“Does this mean…?” Emma asked.
“It means Christie has agreed to be my wife…again,” Patrick said.
Their startled silence become a clatter of good wishes, hugs and kisses. Christie’s eyes glistened with tears, and she hoisted Sean into her arms from his high chair and gave him a hug.
“So when’s the big day?” Wes asked, shaking Patrick’s hand until Christie feared it would fall off.
“We decided not to wait,” Christie said. “We’re getting married New Year’s Eve.”
Patrick slid his arm around her shoulder, cherishing every moment together. “It seemed appropriate. A new year and a new beginning.”
“I’m so happy,” Emma said, tears running down her smooth cheeks. “God’s answered my prayer.”
Christie grinned. “After all your lectures?” She gave Sean a squeeze and shifted him into Patrick’s arms.
Patrick held Sean against his chest, praising God for the miracles—his father’s good health, Sean’s recovery and Christie’s love.
Wes gave them a knowing grin. “You know your mother. She lectures and then she prays.”
Chuckles filled the room until Joe stepped forward and gave Christie a bear hug. “I couldn’t be happier. You were always a good daughter-in-law, and I’m grateful God’s seen fit to bring you two back together.”
“Amen to that,” Emma said. She moved closer to Sean. “Do you understand, Sean? Your daddy is going to marry Christie.”
“We’ve been practicing,” Patrick said. He nuzzled his son against his chin before giving Sean a nod.
The child giggled, then drew in a deep breath. “Chwistie is gonna be my new mommy.”
Patrick looked at his son with pride, then at the others who stood around them with misted eyes. Nothing—not the past or the losses he’d experience—nothing could hold back the complete joy that he felt.
“I love you,” Christie whispered. “Both of you, with all my heart.”
Chapter Seventeen
The band played a love song, and Christie swayed in Patrick’s arms. Through the window of the Bay Breeze dining room, she could see lights flicker on the frozen shore of the lake. In moments, fireworks would ring in the new year.
The song ended, and Patrick guided her off the dance floor, then excused himself to get her a drink, looking handsome in his dark suit and tie.
Jemma stepped to her side and grasped her hand. “Your wedding was beautiful. Simple, but elegant.”
“Thanks,” Christie said, still amazed that she and Patrick were husband and wife once more. “I’m so glad Philip let us use the resort for our little reception.”
“He’d have it no other way.” She kissed Christie’s cheek, but before she moved off, Patrick reappeared with a drink and dangled a key.
“What’s that?”
“The penthouse suite.”
“Penthouse?”
Jemma laughed. “It was our living quarters before we moved. Now, Philip uses it for special occasions. It’s our gift to you.”
“Gift?” Christie said, eyeing Jemma then Patrick.
He nodded. “Philip just gave me the key. He’s canceled our regular room.”
Before Christie could respond, a boom rolled across the sky, and she turned to the wall of windows, looking out on the lake and seeing the flash of color like fairy dust spiraling into the water. From the shore, fireworks burst into the sky. Neon chrysanthemums—pink and yellow petals—drifted downward to the dark water.
The band segued into “Auld Lang Syne,” and as the people sang, moving together in groups and sharing happy-new-year wishes, Patrick moved to Christie’s side, folding her into his arms and holding her close. She wanted nothing more. She closed her eyes, tears blurring her vision, praying that if she never had another child, Patrick would not grieve the loss. He loved children and deserved them.
“You’re beautiful,” Patrick whispered into her ear, swaying with the music, their eyes focused on the firework sky. “My promise today is solid, Christie. I want you to know that. I won’t let you down again.”
“Till death do us part,” she said, feeling confident in their matured love. “I trust you, Patrick.”
“Those are the sweetest words,” he said. “You’ll always be in my loving care, just as the Lord has watched over us.”
His lips touched hers, tender yet urgent. She gave of herself, moving her mouth against his, loving the feel and taste of his lips. His hands caressed her back and one moved up her arm and captured her cheek. “This is loving,” he whispered, his lips beside hers, “and this is what hope and patience promises.”
; She looked at him through her tears, joy filling her heart.
A jingle drew her eyes downward.
The key to the penthouse.
With her mind whirling, she stepped back and bumped into a waiter’s tray. Napkins and silverware tumbled to the floor. She grinned and bent down to retrieve them, but Patrick had bent down first. Their hands touched as they reached for the same fork, and her mind sailed back to months earlier in the pharmacy.
Patrick cupped her hand in his. “Haven’t we met somewhere before?”
She nodded, her heart thundering with the remembrance.
Patrick rose and took her hand to help her rise. He gathered the napkins and silverware and dropped them on the tray. “Ready?”
She nodded, her heart ready to explode. Ready? Yes. Ready to open her heart and arms, to give of herself and never hold back again. God had opened her eyes to the true meaning of love—a love that forgives, a love that endures hardships, a love that never ends.
Patrick guided her across the floor, saying goodbye as they exited. In the hall, they moved down the corridor to the penthouse elevator, pushed the button, and when the door opened they stepped inside, their lives woven as tightly together as their fingers.
Patrick’s hand trembled as he turned the key in the lock. The door swung open to an elegant foyer and ahead of them, a stretch of windows letting in the night sky and the fireworks finale.
They stood a moment, watching the last ember drop into the dark water, then made their way down another hallway to the master suite.
Patrick noted that Philip had sent up their luggage. He’d thought of everything. Two fluted glasses sat on the night stand beside a bottle of sparkling fruit juice. He uncorked the bottle and filled the goblets, then offered Christie hers. When she grasped the stem, he raised his glass. “This is to us. To a new beginning. To a blessed life.”
She took a sip and moved forward, her soft pink gown shining with iridescent beads.
He set his flute on the night stand and drew her into his arms. Their lips met, fitting as perfectly together as if they were meant to be.
She eased back and gazed into his eyes with a shyness he hadn’t expected.
“Go ahead,” he said, tilting his head toward the bathroom. “You first.”
Loving Care Page 17