Love Everlasting

by Julie Lessman

  His jaw condensed as he steered her up the steps into the small but wide Streamliner railcar building, palm firm at the small of her back. “Okay, okay, so how do I change that?”

  “You don’t, Sam—God does.” She slid into a booth and faced him with hands folded on the table, offering a grateful smile when the waitress delivered menus and took their drink order.

  He shook his head as the waitress left, snatching up the menu to study it. “Oh no, Angel Eyes, we’re not going there.”

  She waited till he laid it down again, then leaned in, her smile warm with affection. “Tell me, Sam—do you trust me?” she asked, tenderness lacing her tone.

  He stared at her for several tics of his jaw before his scowl surrendered into a sigh. “Yeah, I trust you,” he muttered, “way more than God, I can tell you that.” He managed a forced smile of thanks to the waitress when she delivered their drinks. “But you already know how I feel about that, Shannon. God wasn’t there for me when I was shuffled from foster home to foster home, so I don’t see any reason to be there for Him now.”

  She paused. “But you do believe in Him, right?”

  He pushed the menu away, face pinched in a frown. “Yeah, I believe in Him. But only because of this crazy cop who took me under his wing after I got into trouble on the streets. And only because he pounded it into my brain that God cared about me, saying that was the reason he reached out to me in the first place—because God told him to.”

  Sam’s gaze lapsed into a dead stare, a sudden sheen of moisture glazing his eyes, which immediately pricked tears at the back of Shannon’s own. “He was a crazy old coot, but I’ll tell you what. Whether God told him to or not, Gus Garavelli was the only one who ever really took the time to know me, care about me. The only one who even bothered to steer me straight.” He swiped at his eyes, the strain in his face softening as one edge of his mouth tipped. “Used to bribe me to go to church with him—in exchange for shooting baskets or taking me out to eat, and other cool stuff he knew I’d wanted—so I did.” His eyes connected with Shannon’s. “I still wasn’t too keen on God, mind you, but I couldn’t deny there was a strength in Gus that drew me, a faith in him that gave me hope.” He reached across the table to take Shannon’s fingers in his, his touch tender. “Just like I see in you, Shan.”

  The waitress returned, and Sam released Shannon’s hand to order for them both. When she left again, Shannon paused, absently twining the wrapper from her straw around her finger as she broached a question weighing on her mind. “This Gus Garavelli,” she said quietly, “is he still in your life?”

  Sam grunted, ripping the paper from his own straw. He crumpled and hurled it at the smiling-pig mold on top of the BBQ sauce caddy. “Nope. Died of a heart attack during my first year of college, which pretty much crushed me, leaving me alone all over again.” He lifted his DP in a mock toast, his smile as plastic as the pig’s. “So, yes, in honor of a stellar human being named Gus, I do retain a faith in God, Angel Eyes, but our relationship is rocky at best.”

  “Yes, but that’s the beauty of faith,” she said as she set her drink aside. “God’s precepts work even when our relationship with Him doesn’t.”

  His gaze narrowed as he studied her with another scowl, grabbing the menu to peruse it again like a barrier against the conversation. “And what’s that supposed to mean?”

  “It means if you get back with Jazz and honor God by staying celibate till marriage, He will bless you.”

  The menu dropped to the table, Sam’s eyes as wide as the paper coasters beneath their drinks. “Are you on drugs? You want me to commit to Jazz, put a ring on her finger, and not make love to her till we say ‘I do’?” Thrusting the menu aside, he issued a grunt. “Impossible.”

  “For you on your own, maybe, but not with God’s help.”

  His smile went flat as he slanted back with a tight fold of arms, assessing her through sullen eyes. “No. I value your advice, Shannon, you know that, but that is just flat-out crazy and wouldn’t work at all, so you may as well forget it.”

  Watching him over the rim of her glass, she took a leisurely sip. “Okay,” she said with a nonchalant air, her smile as sweet as the drink in her hand, “but it sure worked for Jack.”

  Sam blinked, lips parting as awareness eased the hard line of his jaw. “It did, didn’t it?” he whispered, mouth curving in a slow smile as the truth dawned in his eyes. “I remember now because Jazz and I remained friends after we broke up, so I was her sounding board when she started dating your brother.” A grin inched across his handsome face. “Man, how he ticked her off with his strict moral code, driving her up the bloomin’ wall. But there was a part of her that liked it too, she said. Kind of like it gave Jack this strength of character that ramped up her respect and attraction. Jack was a challenge, and she was determined to take him down, only he took her down first when she fell head over heels.” He shook his head. “Now I wonder if his playing hard to get just made her want him all the more …”

  “No wondering about it, Sam, because it sure didn’t hurt,” Shannon said with a gentle smile. “And he wasn’t ‘playing hard to get.’ He was committed to a moral tenet established by God, even though he was angry at Him. A moral tenet, I might add, that not only kept him from marrying the wrong woman, but gave him the desire of his heart in Lacey, the girl he’d been in love with since high school.”

  He sent her a shuttered look, skepticism tingeing his tone. “And you really believe that all happened because he followed some tenets?”

  Her chin rose in a rare show of pluck. “Not ‘some tenets,’” she said with a firm set of her jaw, “God’s tenets. And, yes, I absolutely believe that, especially after Jack’s faith was restored. Because, Dr. Love, faith and obedience in applying God’s precepts—are the epoxy glue that strengthens relationships. A two-step bonding, if you will.”

  “Okay, let me get this straight.” He leaned in, forearms on the table and that resolute look in his eyes. “You’re saying if I apply this so-called ‘tenet’ with Jazz, it will not only strengthen our relationship, but it will help me win her back once and for all?”

  She angled in, too, nose-to-nose with a man she knew thrived on a challenge. “Yes, it will definitely strengthen your relationship and very possibly win her back.”

  “Possibly?” He slugged back a tall swig of his drink, brows bunched over the rim.

  “If Jazz is the woman God has for you, then yes, I believe this could very well win her back. But if she’s not?” She lifted her shoulders in a definitive shrug. “Then this will probably chase her away, preventing you from marrying the wrong woman in the first place, like it did for my brother.”

  Sam’s lips gummed into a thin line. “Don’t worry, Teach, she’s the one,” he said with another healthy swig of his DP. “The woman’s been under my skin since the first moment I saw her, and me under hers, so I’ll do whatever it takes to close the deal.”

  “Whatever it takes, huh?” Shannon grinned, hoping to close a ‘deal’ of her own. She lifted her glass in a toast. “Even faith?”

  He stared for several seconds, his jaw shifting almost imperceptibly before he clinked his glass to hers. “Even faith,” he said in a near growl, glass tipped straight up as he downed the rest of his drink.

  “Good. Because I have a feeling that’s what it’s going to take, Dr. Love. And the fringe benefits? Not only do you completely solidify Jazz’s opinion of you as a man of strength and character, but you convince her it’s her you want and not just her body. Effectively reaffirming the change she’s seen in you as a man she could marry. And all because of a ‘so-called’ tenet where you honor God’s precepts.”

  Gouging fingers through his hair, Sam sagged back in the booth, his gaze veering off into a cold stare as if he just realized what he was about to give up. “Gosh, Shan, I don’t know if I have the strength to do that—or the faith.”

  “Nope, but you’re in luck, big boy, because I know just the place you can get it.”


  Sam paused, lids narrowing to slits. “Why do I think I’m not going to like this?” he bit out, those beautiful coffee-colored eyes deepening all the way to dark roast.

  She gave him a secret smile, chapter twenty-two of Love Everlasting already sketched out in her mind. The waitress delivered two platters of ribs with all the trimmings, one for her and one for Sam, and her stomach rumbled on cue. “Thank you,” she said with an appreciative smile, suddenly ravenous—both for ribs and for Sam to scratch the surface of a faith that could set him free. “Oh, and ma’am …” Shannon offered the waitress a shy smile. “Would it be possible to get a few more wet naps?” she asked meekly, chewing at the edge of her lip with a penitent look. “I have a sneaking feeling I’m about to make a real big mess.”

  “Yeah, I know the feeling.” Sam delivered a mock scowl, drilling Shannon with a gaze that only made her grin. He unfolded his napkin, his smile veering toward dry. “And something tells me it ain’t gonna be pretty.”

  Chapter Twenty

  “You sure it’s not too short?” Sam peered into his visor mirror after he’d parked the Vette near the Mansion on Forsyth Park, brows scrunching over the scalping he’d gotten at the barber. His mouth went flat. On the very day he planned to set the hook with Jazz at the Memorial Awards Banquet. He ruffled the close-cropped curls on top of his head, attempting to rumple them to the disheveled look he preferred. “Closest thing to a military buzz I’ve ever seen,” he said with a heavy exhale, flipping the mirror back down. He offered Shannon an off-kilter smile. “Maybe I should tell Jazz I enlisted, so she’ll beg me to stay.”

  Shannon calmed him with a smile, taking the edge off his nerves better than the occasional Xanax and after-hours beers he’d opted for after Jazz dumped him. She reached to tousle his hair, her touch melting his stress. “I like it,” she said with an approving eye. “More professional physician, less shaggy playboy.” She sat back in her seat, an angel in pale chiffon. “Very mature, especially in that Armani suit.” Her mouth squirmed with a smile. “And far less dangerous.”

  He grinned. “I kind of miss ‘dangerous,’ but ‘mature’ is a definite plus since juvenile behavior is my hallmark, right?”

  “Only on the surface,” she said with a look of affection that warmed him from the inside out. She tapped a finger to her heart. “In here, you’re a changed man, Dr. Cunningham.”

  His grin faded to soft. “Only because of you, Angel Eyes.” Emotion thickened the walls of his throat, reminding him how lucky he was to have Shannon as a friend. Soft, kind, supportive, beautiful, and brilliant. He took in the wispy strays of strawberry gold from an elegant and graceful twisty bun, noted the tenderness in eyes soft with affection, and was certain he’d never met a more angelic being. Her creamy complexion glowed in the dim lighting of the streetlamp, and he could no more stop his gaze from trailing down the modest bodice of her dusky pink dress than he could stop the slow thud of his heart. To him, she was purity personified, creating an unsettling tug-of-war between cherishing her as a friend and wanting her as a woman. “Have I told you yet how mind-blowingly beautiful you look tonight, Teach?”

  A soft blush settled in those petal-soft cheeks. “At least five times,” she said with an adorable grimace, “but you haven’t convinced me yet, so I’d save those compliments for when they count—with Jasmine.”

  “Well, if I can’t convince you, there’ll be plenty of guys gawking inside who will, kiddo, so get ready.” He got out of the car and strode around to open Shannon’s door, surprised as always at how petite she was, even in heels. Placing a protective palm to the small of her back, he guided her toward the elevator. “You should have let me drop you off at the door,” he groused, wishing he wasn’t so paranoid about valet parking. “You look too classy to be hoofing it to the hotel.”

  Her soft chuckle sounded like music. “I don’t mind, truly. Especially since I’m wearing sensible heels instead of stilettos.”

  His laughter filled the tiny elevator. “Thank you, God,” he said with a devious wink.

  By the time he ushered her into the lavish Viennese Ballroom of the luxurious Mansion on Forsythe Park Hotel, he was keyed to the max again. The thought of how close he was to making Jazz his pumped equal mixtures of adrenalin and hope through his veins. Because he was close—he could feel it. And he could see it in Jazz’s eyes every time he met her for coffee or the occasional friendly dinner to discuss her romantic woes with the intern. It had been months in the making, but they had forged a bond Sam had never achieved in all the time he and Jazz had dated. A bond firmly anchored by his initial declaration that she was the woman he loved per Shannon’s suggestion, and the one he was willing to wait for, completely forsaking all others. A solid-gold suggestion to be sure, allowing Jazz the comfort of a close friendship with Sam minus the usual stirring of jealousy over other women he’d dated.

  Until tonight.

  A slow grin eased across his lips as he escorted Shannon through the sea of linen-clad tables, each resplendent with calla lily centerpieces and candlelight flickering over crystal and china. No, tonight was the night he hoped his friendship with Shannon might spark a little bit of the green-eyed monster in his green-eyed beauty. Oh, Jazz knew Shannon was his friend all right, but she had no idea how close they were, which is why he’d asked Shannon to go with him to the banquet tonight.

  “You mean like a date?” Shannon had said, her voice little more than a squeak.

  “Not a date,” he’d emphasized, “as friends. So you can lend me moral support when Jazz shows up with Bozo.”

  “Oh, I see. And possibly making her jealous when you show up with another woman?” Those “angel eyes” had narrowed as she folded her arms, brows arched in a schoolmarm scold.

  But he’d just given her that little-boy grin that always seemed to breach her defenses, and she’d caved as usual. “Admit it, Shan, it’s perfect. Jazz knows I’m committed to her because I’ve given up dating other women. But it can’t hurt to tweak a little jealousy when she sees me dancing and laughing with my new best friend, right?” He winked. “Especially my very beautiful, very sexy, very bright best friend.”

  His words had gorged her cheeks with blood, and he hadn’t been able to resist a hug, tugging her close to deposit a kiss to her head. “You are so adorable, you know that? Hands-down the sweetest, most innocent woman I have ever met.”

  Which is why she was absolutely perfect as his date tonight. With an easy smile, he guided her to her family’s table at the back of the room, where Cat was wildly waving a napkin. Jazz had already lost one man to a “prude” of a friend when Jack broke it off to marry Lacey, so it only stood to reason that Shannon—Lacey’s equally spiritual sister-in-law—would threaten her too.

  If Jazz cares at all.

  And that was what Sam planned to find out tonight, hopefully hooking her back into a relationship with him once and for all.

  “What took you so long, Ham?” Jack said when Sam seated Shannon at a table with Jack and Lacey, Jack’s mom and Lacey’s father, Cat and her date, and Jack’s cousin Matt and his wife, Nicki. “You almost missed the first course.”

  Extending greetings to the ladies and handshakes to the men, Sam took the last seat between Shannon and Jack. Smile faltering, he bent close to Jack to explain his delay, voice low while Shannon chatted with her mother and Dr. Carmichael. “Sorry to run late, man, but I got a call on Sandi Borgens,” he said quietly, quickly taking a sip of his water.

  Jack’s brows dipped. “I thought Sims was on call this weekend, not you.” His voice dropped an octave, the thread of concern in his tone matching Sam’s. “Everything okay?”

  “Yeah, for now. But the little sweetheart had a relapse, so I wanted to check it out and talk to her parents.”

  Jack cuffed Sam’s shoulder while Lacey chatted with Cat and her date, Chase Griffin. “You’re a good doc, Ham.”

  Heat crawled up the back of Sam’s neck as waiters delivered their salads, and issuing his
thanks to the staff, he deflected Jack’s praise with a cocky flash of teeth. “Yeah, well let’s hope it’s enough to kick your butt tonight, O’Bryen,” he quipped, referencing the “Rookie Pediatrician of the Year” award they were both up for.

  Which wasn’t the obsession it had been before, Sam suddenly realized as he harpooned a cherry tomato, pretty much blowing him away. At one time winning meant everything, but since his countless sessions with Shannon, it now paled in comparison to winning at love. The deep-down, bottom-line kind of love that lasted a lifetime. “Love everlasting,” Shannon had called it, but she always tacked God onto it, which Sam wasn’t inclined to do.

  At least, not yet.

  “If Wilson doesn’t kick our butts first,” Jack responded with a stab at an olive, his casual attitude about winning as surprising as Sam’s. He and Jack had been killer competitors throughout residency, Sam’s drive to win meeting its match in the nose-to-the-grindstone resident who was now one of his best friends. Even after Jack stole Sam’s crown as Memorial’s heartthrob their final year.

  Along with my girl.

  But Sam wasn’t one to hold a grudge, especially against Jack, a good friend he flat-out liked and respected more than most men he knew. And like Shannon so wisely pointed out, it was Jack’s involvement with Jasmine after Sam blew it that forced Sam to finally see the error of his ways—never a bad thing.

  Love seeketh not its own.

  It does not behave itself unseemly.

  Jack’s mom, Tess, leaned forward with a bright smile. “So, Sam, good luck tonight.”

  “Gee, thanks, Mom,” Jack said in a mock wounded tone. “Appreciate the support.”