It Had to Be You and All Our Tomorrows

by Irene Hannon

  Now if only Maggie would come to the same conclusion.

  * * *

  Maggie tipped her face back to the sun and sighed contentedly as Parisian street life bustled around her. Her fabulous European adventure was drawing to a close, but it had been everything she’d hoped. She felt steeped in great art, had soaked it up until her soul was satiated. And she’d learned so much! The classes had been tremendous, and she’d produced some of her best work on this trip, shipping it home to Philip as she completed it. His enthusiastic response had reaffirmed her opinion that she’d made great strides.

  With only two weeks left in her sojourn, her thoughts were now beginning to turn to home, and she reached up to finger the ring that hung on a slender gold chain around her neck. Soon she would have to make her decision. Maggie knew, with absolute certainty, that she loved Jake. She also knew, with equal certainty, that she was afraid. So the question came down to this: Was she willing to take the risk that love entailed? To trust her heart completely to this man who had walked out on her once before? A man who she had come to believe was now capable of true commitment—but whose unexpected lapse had shaken her trust?

  Maggie knew what the twins thought. They’d summed it up in three pithy words. Go for it. Philip had said much the same thing. And Maggie felt in her heart they were right. She knew that nothing good came without risk. Yet she was still afraid. She’d prayed daily for guidance, asked for a sign, for direction, but so far the Lord hadn’t responded to her plea.

  Maggie sighed and reached for the mail she’d just picked up. There was a letter from Jake, she noted, her lips curving up into a smile. He wrote practically every other day. And one from Pop, she saw with surprise. Those would be letters to savor. So she put them aside and opened the large brown envelope from Philip, who sorted through her mail at home and passed on things that looked important. She peered inside and withdrew a small package with an unfamiliar New York return address. Curiously she tore off the brown wrapping to find a little box cocooned inside a letter. Quickly she scanned the single sheet of paper.

  Dear Ms. Fitzgerald,

  Millicent Trent gave this to me and asked that I send it to you. I am sorry to inform you that she passed away last week after a brief illness. But she did so at peace with the Lord, and with joy. She said she wanted you to have this because you would understand, and that she hoped your story turns out happier than hers. She also asked me to remind you that very few people get a second chance, and to consider carefully before you let yours slip away. I confess I don’t understand the message, but Millicent said you would. May the Lord keep you in His care.

  The letter was signed by a Reverend Thomas Wilson.

  Maggie’s eyes filled with tears as she removed the lid from the small box and gazed down at the two-part heart pendant nestled inside. She was deeply touched by Millicent’s gift, for she knew that of all the woman’s possessions, this was the one that meant the most to her. Perhaps in death she would at last find the reconciliation that had eluded her in life, Maggie thought wistfully, as she silently asked the Lord to watch over her friend.

  Wiping a hand across her eyes, Maggie reached next for Pop’s letter. It was brief, and written very much in character.

  Hi, Maggie.

  I got your address from Jake. I hope you’re having fun. We’re not. Don’t get me wrong. Things are good between Jake and me. Real good. Jake turned out fine after all, and I’m proud to have him for a son. But he’s been moping around the house like a lovesick puppy, and it’s driving me crazy. So please come home soon and put him out of his misery. He misses you a lot. So do I.

  Maggie smiled through her tears. Obviously Pop and Jake were getting along fine. Jake had told her he’d make it work, and he had. There was an undertone of affection in Pop’s letter that conveyed even more clearly than the words that the two of them were back on track.

  And then she settled back in her chair and opened Jake’s letter. His notes were typically chatty and warm as he filled her in on his daily life, making her feel that she was sitting next to him on the couch while he shared his day’s adventures. But it was always the opening and closing that she reread several times. He never failed to remind her how much he missed her or that he was counting the days until her return. Though he never pressed for an answer to his proposal, she could sense hope—and anxiety—in every line. The closing of today’s letter especially tugged at her heart.

  The days are long, Maggie, and without the sound of your voice and your sparkling eyes, they seem empty. The nights are even worse. I find sleep more and more elusive as I anticipate your return. I hope that you’re faring better than I am on that score. And then again, maybe I don’t. In my heart, I hope you miss me as desperately as I miss you. I don’t know what hell holds for those who sin, but I feel that in the agony of uncertainty I’ve endured during these last few weeks I have somehow made reparation for at least some of my transgressions. I love you, Maggie. More with each day that passes. I look forward to the moment I can tell you that again face-to-face. Until then, know that thoughts of you fill my days—and nights.

  Maggie’s eyes grew misty again, and she drew in a long, unsteady breath. This was the most direct Jake had been about his feelings. Until now his letters had been mostly lighthearted, written to make her smile, not cry. But now he was baring his soul, letting her know just how much her answer meant to him. It was a courageous thing to do, giving someone the power to hurt you that way. But it was honest. And from the heart. And it touched her deeply.

  Maggie pressed his letter to her breast as she extracted Millicent’s pendant from the tiny box and cradled it in her hand. She thought about the gift of love Jake was offering her. And she thought about Millicent’s sad story of love thrown away. She thought also about all that Jake had done in the last few months to prove his steadfastness and his ability to honor a promise. How he had diligently cared for his father and painstakingly rebuilt that relationship. How he came to her aid when she was ill. How he stayed by her side at the hospital, and was there for her to lean on during the twins’ emotional send-off to college. Since coming back into her life, he had never once failed to be there when she needed him.

  And suddenly the image of the painting she was just now completing came to mind. With a startling flash of insight, she realized that while she had been asking the Lord for a sign to help her make her decision, it had literally been in front of her for weeks. For she now knew that she had made her decision long ago, in the hills above Florence. She’d just been too afraid to admit it. But today’s letters had brought everything sharply into focus and banished her fear.

  With a sudden, joyful lightening of her heart, Maggie gathered up her letters and headed back to her room.

  * * *

  Jake shoved his hands into his pockets and drew a long, unsteady breath. It had been three months since he’d said goodbye to Maggie. Three eternal, lonely months. She’d written regularly, but letters didn’t ease the ache in his heart, nor did they fill his days with joy and laughter and his nights with tenderness and love.

  He sighed and reached up to loosen his tie as he gazed out into the night. Nothing seemed right without Maggie. He needed her. The thought that she might ultimately reject his proposal had plagued him incessantly, etched faint lines of worry at the corners of his eyes. And yet he knew he had done the right thing. He’d given her the time she needed to be sure. Because he didn’t want her to commit to him unless she felt the same absolute certainty, trust and deep, abiding love for him that he felt for her.

  Jake heard a door open and he turned slowly, his gaze softening into a smile as Maggie entered. She always looked beautiful to him, but never more so than right now, as she walked toward him resplendent in her wedding finery. He held her at arm’s length for a moment when she joined him, letting his gaze move over her slowly and lingeringly, memorizing every nuance of her appearance
as she stood before him, more dazzling in her radiance than the illuminated Eiffel Tower visible behind her through the French doors on the balcony.

  Her hair was drawn back on one side with a cluster of sweetheart roses and baby’s breath, a miniature reflection of the bouquet she’d carried as they were married just hours before. Her tea-length white silk gown, subtly patterned to shimmer in the light, was simply but elegantly cut, with slightly puffed sleeves and a sweetheart neckline. Around her neck she wore Millicent’s heart pendant, the two halves seamlessly joined by the hands of a master jeweler. Jake would never forget the expression of joy and certainty on her face as they’d exchanged their vows in the tiny chapel she’d reserved. Illuminated only by the mosaic of late-afternoon light as it filtered through the intricate stained-glass windows, with the fragrance of roses sweetly perfuming the air, it had been the perfect, intimate spot for them to exchange the vows that had been so long delayed.

  “You look breathtaking,” Jake said huskily, the warmth in his eyes making her tremble with joy—and anticipation.

  She smiled, and a becoming blush rose in her cheeks. “Actually, I feel pretty breathless,” she admitted.

  He chuckled. “It has been a bit of a whirlwind, hasn’t it?” Since her phone call a week ago, life had moved into high gear. Thank heaven her call had coincided with Spring Break! But even if it hadn’t, nothing could have kept him from her side.

  “Everything happened so fast that I can hardly believe it’s real.”

  “You’re not sorry, are you?” he asked worriedly. “Would you rather we had waited, been married at home?”

  She smiled and shook her head. “No. We waited long enough. And once I decided, I was determined to have that Paris honeymoon after all.”

  His eyes deepened with passion, and he reached for her. But when she held back, he looked down at her questioningly.

  “Jake, before we...we...well, I have something I’d like to give you first,” she stammered.

  He smiled indulgently. “Since I’ve already waited years for this moment, I suppose I can hold out a few more minutes.”

  “I’ll be right back,” she promised, extricating herself gently from his arms. She disappeared into the bedroom of their suite, and returned a moment later with a large package wrapped in silver paper. As she held it out to him, she noticed that he’d placed two small packages with white bows on the coffee table.

  “Looks like we both had the same idea,” he commented with a smile.

  “I didn’t expect a present, Jake. Not on such short notice,” she protested.

  “I’ve had these for a long time, Maggie,” he told her quietly. “They were just waiting for this moment.”

  He sat on the couch and drew Maggie down beside him, then tore off the shiny paper of his package to reveal an impressionistic painting of a man, woman and small child on a hillside picnic, visible only from the back, surrounded by a golden light. The man and woman were seated, and he had his arm around the child. He was pointing into the distance, and the woman’s hand rested on the man’s shoulder as she leaned close to him. A feeling of intrinsic love and serenity and unity pervaded the painting, making the viewer yearn to be part of the idyllic family scene.

  Jake examined the exquisite painting silently, then drew a deep breath as he turned to his wife and shook his head in awe. “This is wonderful, Maggie!” he said in a hushed voice. “All of your work is excellent, but...well, this stands apart. You always paint from the heart, but this...it captures something, some essence, I’ve never seen before in your work.”

  “It comes even more from the heart than you realize, Jake,” she told him softly.

  He looked at her curiously. “What do you mean?”

  “I thought a lot about us while I’ve been here. I knew from the beginning that I loved you. That was never a question. But I was so afraid of being hurt again. I just couldn’t decide what to do. I asked the Lord for guidance, but I never seemed to get an answer.

  “And then last week I was sitting at a sidewalk café, and I thought about this painting, which I started in Florence. Suddenly I realized I’d made my decision—about a couple of things—a long time ago.”

  She drew a deep breath and looked at him, her gaze steady and certain. “That’s us, Jake. You and me...and our child. I never even realized it until a few days ago. My heart’s known for weeks what I wanted to do. It just took a little longer for the message to reach my mind.”

  Carefully Jake set the painting down, then he reached for her and pulled her close.

  “Oh, Maggie.” His voice broke, and he buried his face in her hair, holding her tightly. “Are you sure? You’re not doing this just because you know I want it?”

  “Partly,” she admitted, her voice muffled against his chest. “But I’m doing it for me, too. I want to raise our child—together—if the Lord chooses to bless us with one. I want part of us, what we have together, to live on. And I want to share our love with a child.”

  He drew a deep, shuddering breath, and when he pulled back, the tenderness, love and gratitude reflected on his face brought a lump to her throat.

  “I love you, Maggie.”

  “I love you, too. With all my heart.” Her own voice broke on the last word, and he reached over to frame her face with this strong hands, his thumbs gentle as they stroked her damp cheeks.

  “Now it’s your turn.” He retrieved the two small packages, handing her the smaller one first.

  Maggie tore off the wrapping and lifted the lid of the small box to reveal an antique, gold-filigreed locket. She flipped it open to find two tiny photos—one of she and Jake taken when they were about nine and ten, and one of them taken by the twins on her last birthday. Those two photos seemed to reaffirm what her heart had long known—that their lives had always been destined to join.

  “That was Mom’s locket,” Jake told her. “I found it when I was cleaning out the house for Dad. Her mother gave it to her when she turned twenty, and it was always one of her most treasured possessions. I know she’d want you to have it. And so do I.”

  “Oh, Jake! It’s lovely! Thank you.”

  He handed her the other package and waited silently as she tore off the wrapping, raised the lid and carefully folded back the tissue paper. With unsteady hands she withdrew a small, framed document, and her breath caught in her throat as she was immediately transported back to another time and place. At the top, in careful lettering, were the words Official Document. Below that it read, “I, Jake West, and I, Maggie Fitzgerald, promise to always be friends forever and ever, no matter what happens.” It was dated twenty-eight years before, and they’d each signed it in their childish scrawls. Their mothers had signed also, as witnesses.

  “I’d forgotten all about this,” she whispered.

  “I found it in my mother’s fireproof ‘treasure box’ the same day I found the locket,” Jake said quietly. “I meant those words then, Maggie. And I mean them now.”

  Maggie could no longer hold back her tears. They streamed down her cheeks unchecked as she stared down at the yellowed document in her hands. She thought about the gifts they had just exchanged—the locket that had once belonged to Jake’s mother, this sentimental document, her painting. None of them had much, if any, monetary value. But they were worth far more than gold to her, for they came from the heart and were born of love. A cherished line from Matthew came suddenly to mind—“For where thy treasure is, there also will thy heart be.”

  Maggie looked up at Jake, and he reached over to gently brush her tears away.

  “No more tears, Maggie. There’ve been enough of those in this relationship.” He reached down and drew her to her feet, guiding her to the French doors that looked out onto the lights of Paris, the illuminated Eiffel Tower rising majestically into the night sky.

  “Remember how we used to talk about Par
is? How we thought it was so romantic, and how we dreamed of spending our honeymoon here?” he asked softly.

  She nodded, a smile of gentle remembrance touching her lips. “Mmm-hmm.”

  He turned to face her, his hands resting gently at her waist. She looked up at him, and the intensity—and fire—in his eyes made her breathless. “Well, our honeymoon might have been a little delayed. But I promise you this, my love. I’ll spend the rest of my life making up for lost time. Starting right now.”

  Then he took her hand and drew her back inside, closing the door on the lights of Paris before he pulled her into his waiting arms. And as his lips claimed hers, in a kiss filled with promise and passion, Maggie said a silent prayer of thanks. After all these years, she had at last come home to the man she loved. And it was where she belonged. For always.

  Epilogue

  Two and a half years later

  “Allison, will you run down to the cottage and tell Pop dinner’s almost ready?”

  “Sure.” Allison pulled off a piece of the turkey that stood waiting to be carried to the table and popped it into her mouth. “Mmm. Fantastic! Sure beats the food in the dorms,” she declared with a grin.

  “Well, you’ll only have to put up with the food for one more semester,” Maggie reminded her with a smile. “I still can’t believe you two are graduating in less than six months!”

  “We can’t, either,” Abby chimed in. “Watch out, world, here we come!”

  Maggie laughed. “Amen to that!”

  Jake ambled into the kitchen, sniffed appreciatively and headed straight for the turkey. “That smells great!” he pronounced.