by Irene Hannon
“I didn’t try too hard.”
The older man cocked his head. “That doesn’t sound like you. Why not?”
Taking a sip of his coffee, Christopher hoped the caffeine would clear some of the cobwebs from his brain. “She gave me some reasons last night why she didn’t think there was much chance things between us would work out.”
“Good reasons?”
“Maybe.”
“Hmph.” Henry sipped his own coffee. “Family differences?”
“She brought those up, but I told her they didn’t matter. It was the other things she shared that gave me pause.”
“Interesting.” Henry weighed his mug in his hand. “Why do you think she did that if she thought those things might turn you away?”
Christopher frowned. He hadn’t really considered her motivations. “It was the honest thing to do, I suppose.”
“Indeed it was. Seems to me that shows a lot of integrity. And courage.” Henry took a slow sip of coffee. “When you love someone, you do things for them that aren’t always in your own best interest. You try to protect them. To do what’s best for them.”
Christopher looked at his neighbor. “No one ever said anything about love.”
“Not in words, maybe. But anyone who’s ever loved can recognize it in someone else. And I’ve been seeing plenty of it right here in my own backyard.” He set his mug on the table and leaned forward. “Marci didn’t have to tell you her secrets, yet she chose to let you see the whole package before you got too involved. Even at the risk of losing you.”
Christopher wrapped his fingers around his mug and stared into the dark liquid. Henry was right. He knew Marci’s feelings ran as strong and deep as his. He could see it in her eyes.
Just as he’d seen the reflection of her breaking heart when she’d turned toward him after he’d rejected her.
And that’s what his silence in the aftermath of her revelation had been, he acknowledged.
Rejection.
As loud and clear as if he’d spoken the words.
A sudden wave of nausea swept over him. He’d never wanted to hurt Marci. The Lord knew she’d been hurt too much already in her life. What he wanted to do was love her.
But how was he supposed to deal with her past?
“I don’t know what she told you last night, Christopher, but I can see it’s got you tied up in knots.” Henry laid a hand on his shoulder. “Must have been a powerful story. You in the mood to hear another one?”
Curious, Christopher gave his full attention to the man who’d become a second grandfather to him. “Sure.”
Settling back in his chair, Henry took a measured sip of his coffee and surveyed the horizon, where a distant boat churned purposefully forward, maintaining a steady course. “You know about my service in Korea.”
“Some. You’ve never given me much detail.”
“That’s because most of it was ugly. I told you once a lot of the guys I served with were haunted by the memories for the rest of their lives. I didn’t tell you why. But I think it’s time you knew.”
Henry set his mug on the table and folded his hands over his stomach. “Korea was a bad place, Christopher. Most of the American foot soldiers were young, undertrained, under-equipped and unprepared. We were dealing with an aggressive enemy, plus a huge refugee population that the North Korean soldiers often mingled with—in disguise. After they got behind American lines, they’d conduct guerrilla operations. As you might imagine, it was a very tense situation, and we were always watching our backs.”
His lips settled into a grim line, and he fell silent as he gazed again toward the sea. In all the months he’d known the older man, Christopher had never seen such distress tighten his features. It was almost as if he was in physical pain.
“You don’t have to tell me this, Henry.”
His neighbor looked back at him. “Yes, I do. For Marci’s sake.”
Twin furrows creased Christopher’s brow. “What do your experiences in Korea have to do with Marci?”
“You’ll see in a few minutes. I hope.” Henry took a deep breath. “We’d been told to consider refugees hostile and to keep them off the roads. We’d also been told to search them whenever they crossed our path.
“One day we saw a dozen or more approaching. We called to them to halt. They didn’t. We tried again. Same result. There were only a few of us on that patrol, and we were nervous. The day before some of our buddies had been killed or wounded by enemy soldiers who’d infiltrated a group just like the one we were facing.”
He swallowed. Picked up his coffee. His hand was trembling as he took a sip and set it carefully back on the table.
“As they drew closer, one of them reached inside their coat. I panicked and pulled the trigger. Chaos erupted. More shots were fired. The refugees scattered, what was left of them. Eight were killed by me and my fellow soldiers. After things finally quieted down, we checked them out. Five were women. Two were old men. One was a child. The person I shot was a woman. I thought she’d been reaching inside her coat for a weapon. But when I opened it, I found a baby. Also dead.”
In the silence following Henry’s story, Christopher tried to imagine the stomach-churning horror of that moment.
It was beyond his comprehension.
Nor could he reconcile the frail, tender-hearted older man beside him with the terrified young soldier who’d pulled the trigger that spawned a massacre.
But the deep, gut-wrenching sadness in Henry’s eyes confirmed they were one and the same.
“I never told that story to anyone except Marjorie, Christopher. And I almost didn’t tell it to her. I was ashamed, and I thought she’d reject me if she knew what I’d done. But in the end, I couldn’t in good conscience ask her to marry me without letting her see into my soul, with all its dark places. I had to take that risk. It was the only fair thing to do.”
At last Christopher found his voice. “What did she say?”
The whisper of a smile tugged at Henry’s lips. “I’ll never forget it. She took my hand, looked me in the eye and said, ‘You were young, Henry. And afraid. You were trying to protect yourself in a hostile environment. Yes, you made a tragic mistake. But when I look into your heart I see only kindness and caring and empathy. I know you would never hurt anyone out of malice or anger. Your spirit is too gentle. That’s why I love you. And that will never change. So make your peace with the Lord. And then let it go. As I intend to.’”
As Henry’s words echoed in the quiet air, Christopher thought about Marjorie’s eloquent declaration of love. She’d looked into Henry’s heart and known that only extraordinary circumstances would have caused him to act in such an uncharacteristic manner.
He hadn’t cut Marci the same slack.
But he should have. She, too, had been young and afraid, ill-equipped and unprepared for the challenge she’d faced. Like Henry, she’d panicked and pulled the trigger—in a figurative sense—cutting short a life. And she’d lived with guilt and regret ever since.
Settling his elbows on the table, he dropped his head into his hands.
“I really blew it, didn’t I?”
“It’s not too late to make things right.”
He shook his head, feeling as bleak as a gray winter day on Nantucket. “It might be.”
“Nope. Marci will give you another chance. That’s the kind of woman she is. Some people go through fire and get burned so badly their scars never heal. Others are forged by fire in a good way. I don’t know what Marci told you. What bad experiences she had or bad decisions she made. But I do know she has a kind and forgiving heart.”
He smiled and leaned close to once more rest his hand on Christopher’s shoulder. “I know one other thing, too. Whether she’s ready to admit it or not, she loves you. And love changes everything.”
For a long moment, Christopher regarded the older man. Then, picking up his mug, he stood. “I think I need to take a little drive into town. Would you like me to help you inside before
I leave?”
“No. I’m going to stay here and do some reminiscing. But I want a full report later.”
“Wish me luck.”
“I’ll do that.” Henry lifted his mug in salute. “But you do your part, too. Letting that little lady get away would be foolish. And you’re no fool, my friend.”
Maybe not, Christopher thought as he strode across the lawn toward his cottage. But he’d sure acted like one with Marci. He could only pray she would be as generous and forgiving as Henry expected.
Even if he didn’t deserve it.
“Well, look who’s here!”
At the sound of Edith’s voice, Marci glanced toward the door of the church as her landlords crossed the lawn, aiming for the bench where she sat.
“Hi, Edith. Chester.”
The older man gave her a shy smile and dipped his head.
“What brings you to church today?” Edith asked.
“Just paying a visit. But I was too late for the service, so I thought I’d wait out here until it was over.”
“You could have come in. God doesn’t give out tardy slips.” The older woman chuckled. “But you go right on in now. The place will be cleared out in a matter of minutes. Everyone has holiday plans. See you later.”
Commandeering Chester’s arm, she towed him along toward their car.
Marci waited five more minutes, then slipped inside the empty church, choosing a pew near the back.
For a long while she simply sat there, letting the peaceful ambiance soothe her. She’d experienced this same sense of reassurance on her last visit, too. And it felt good.
After fifteen or twenty minutes, she pulled a piece of printed material from the rack on the pew in front of her and began paging through it. It was a guide for today’s service, she realized.
All at once, a quote from Ephesians jumped off the page at her.
“I pray that the eyes of your heart may be enlightened, so that you will know what is the hope of His calling.”
How odd. It was as if J.C. or Nathan were talking to her. Both of her brothers were always praying she’d see the light.
The imagery of the passage was nice, too, Marci reflected, reading it a second time. The eyes of your heart. How apt. For the heart did see. Often more clearly than the eye. She also liked the reference to finding hope in the call of the Lord. That had happened with Nathan last year. Once he’d heard the Lord’s call, his life had been transformed.
Maybe it was her turn now. Better late than never, right? After all, Edith had just told her the Lord didn’t give out tardy slips.
Marci took a deep breath. What could it hurt to try? Worst case, He would reject her. And she was used to that.
Feeling a little awkward, she bowed her head and closed her eyes.
Okay, Lord, here I am. In Your house. You don’t know me very well, but my brothers are friends of Yours. You’ve probably heard them mention my name a few hundred times. Sorry about that. They can be annoyingly persistent.
Anyway, here’s the thing. There’s this guy I like. Christopher Morgan. I talked to You once before about him. He likes me. Or he did. Until I told him about all the mistakes I’ve made.
I’m sorry about those, Lord. Sorrier than I can say. If I had a chance to relive all those bad years, I’d make different decisions. But I can’t. All I can do is lay them in front of You and ask Your forgiveness. J.C. is always telling me how kind and merciful You are. How You’re willing to give people a second chance, and how You value people for what’s inside their hearts, not for the clothes they wear or the money they have. I wish more humans were like You.
So if You’re really like that, You know my remorse is sincere. And You know I’ve tried very hard in the past seven years to live a good life. To be a good person. Maybe You can help me be even better. I’m willing to work with you on this, Lord. I want to be good enough to be loved by someone who’s kind and caring and decent and generous. Someone like Christopher.
If you could show me how to…
“Marci?”
So focused was she on her thoughts that it took a couple of seconds for the resonant baritone voice beside her to register. When it did, her eyes flew open.
Christopher stood in the aisle, dressed in khaki slacks and an open-necked blue shirt that matched his eyes. But he wasn’t his usual put-together self. He’d missed one of his buttons, his hair was damp and a bit tousled from a very recent shower and he’d nicked his chin shaving.
Nevertheless, he looked fabulous to her.
“May I join you?” He motioned toward the pew.
She slid over, noting the smudges beneath his lower lashes and the lines of strain around his mouth. Apparently he hadn’t slept any better than she had.
“What are you doing here?” She clenched her hands in her lap and gave him a wary look.
“Looking for you. I stopped by the cottage, and Edith told me where you were. Good thing I ran into her. I would never have thought to check here.”
A mirthless smile twisted her lips. “Yeah. Marci Clay in a church. Imagine that. I’m surprised God hasn’t tossed me out on my ear.”
He frowned. “That’s not what I meant.”
“Maybe not. But it’s true.”
“God welcomes everyone, Marci. Even people who make mistakes. Like me.”
She shot him a skeptical glance. “You haven’t made any mistakes that I’ve noticed.”
“I made a big one last night when I let you walk away.”
Her heart did a little quickstep, but she ruthlessly smothered the tiny ember of hope that ignited. She’d indulged in romantic fantasies about Christopher once; she wouldn’t set herself up like that again.
“You did the right thing. You deserve better than me.”
“Marci.” He angled toward her, and when he took her hands the touch of his strong, lean fingers set her pulse racing. “Give yourself more credit than that. You’re a very special woman. You’re smart and caring and funny and strong and kind. You have a generous, loving heart. And you’ve added an incredible spark to my life.” His eyes grew soft, and she could read the apology in their depths. “I should have said all that last night, and I’m sorry I didn’t. My only excuse is that you walked away before I could process everything you told me.”
She tried to think, but the warmth of his fingers was short-circuiting her brain. “I did dump a lot on you.”
“Maybe. But I’ve had all night to think about it. And here’s where I stand. I know our relationship is new, and I’m not suggesting we rush this. What I’d like you to do is stay and take the director job with Caring Connections. Give me a chance to court you properly. Then let’s put the rest in God’s hands and see where He leads us. What do you say?”
As Marci gazed into his warm blue eyes, her lungs stopped working. Was it possible that all she’d hoped and prayed for had been granted? It seemed too good to be true.
“Why, Christopher?” She searched his eyes. “Why do you want me, after all the mistakes I made?”
“No one is exempt from making mistakes, Marci. And making them doesn’t mean we’re bad people. It just means we used bad judgment. All we can do is learn from them, move on and try to do better. That’s what God asks of us. And that’s what you did. How can I expect anything more?” He stroked his thumb along the back of her hand, creating a trail of warmth. “As Henry reminded me this morning, I’d be a fool to let you go. I agree. So please…say you’ll stay.”
At his husky request, Marci felt the pressure of tears in her throat. Listening to her heart at last, she took the leap. “Okay.” The word came out in a croak.
Relief smoothed the tension from Christopher’s face, and he stood, tugging her to her feet. “Come with me.”
“Where are we going?” She followed as he led her down the aisle and out the front door, into the dazzling sun of a glorious Nantucket morning.
Guiding her to the side of the porch, behind the privacy of a tall hydrangea bush laden with blossoms, he
pulled her into his arms. “To seal our bargain.”
Before she could respond, he gave her a kiss that communicated more eloquently than words the joy and love that was in his heart.
When at last he released her, settling his hands at her waist while she clung to his neck, he grinned. “What are your plans for the rest of the day?”
“I don’t have any.”
“You do now. Ending with fireworks.”
Marci smiled and traced his lips with a whisper stroke of her finger. “I just had my fireworks.”
At her touch, his eyes darkened. “How about an encore?”
Bending down once more, his mouth settled over hers in a kiss that spoke of promises and hope and a new tomorrow. Never had Marci felt so cherished.
For Christopher’s love hadn’t simply filled her world with joy. It had also liberated her from the shadows of her past.
It was a gift she would treasure every day of her life.
Just as she would treasure the special man who’d given her an Independence Day to remember.
Epilogue
Five Months Later
As Marci drove toward ’Sconset in the deepening dusk, a contented smile curved her lips. It was hard to believe how fairy-tale-like her life had become in the past few months. She felt like Cinderella. Except the ball hadn’t ended at midnight.
Caring Connections was up and running, and public reception and support had been phenomenal.
Her job as director gave her everything she’d ever hoped to find in a career—satisfaction, joy and the contentment of knowing she was doing meaningful work that made a difference in people’s lives.
J.C. and Heather were close by, and in five months Nathan would join them to complete their original little circle.
She’d made new friends like Edith and Chester and Henry—whom she was visiting today.
Her journey to the Lord was progressing well, imbuing her days with a new sense of purpose and hope.
And then there was Christopher.
As large, lazy flakes of snow began to fall, adding a pristine topping to the already white world, her smile broadened.