But sometimes, trusting God was the hardest thing to do.
Meeting with James again did seem crazy.
No matter how gorgeous he was. How much he still looked like Hugh Grant had in all her favourite rom coms. Or how much being near him made her heart beat faster.
It still seemed probable that accepting this gift of more time with him would lead to heartache.
That is, if she survived long enough to have her heart broken again.
Every time the escalator clattered down with a customer or the lift door opened, tension flooded her. Chances were, nothing but the anticipation of seeing him would give her a heart attack.
Surviving though to six o’clock seemed improbable, let alone until the wedding.
Anita didn’t help, gleefully bouncing around the department like the she was Queen of Hearts, rather than the silly teapot outfit she wore for the second day in a row.
“As soon as I saw that wedding invitation and knew it was him, I wasn’t going to let you say no.” As she stacked brightly enamelled tea kettles, her voice held no trace of doubt about her matchmaking abilities. “I’ll have you two back together in no time. Everyone gets romantic at a wedding.”
Beth glanced up from reorganising her display shelves. The edge of acid in her sharp laugh hurt. “Go aim your arrows elsewhere, girlfriend. This wedding won’t be romantic. And James and I never were together.”
Bitterness escaped as the words rolled off her tongue. “I thought I loved him. But really, we were nothing but friends. Maybe on the edge of blossoming into something more. Until tonight’s lovely bride got rid of me because she wanted him all to herself.”
Anita’s blue eyes widened. “It’s her wedding. Oh.”
“Now you see why I didn’t want to go? It’s not only the James thing. I’ll have to hope Imogen is too busy being the centre of attention to bother being nasty.”
She waved the intricately carved Welsh love spoon she’d just unpacked, to emphasise her words.
“I’m going because it might be good for business. According to her Facebook page, Imogen’s guest list is the Who’s Who of twenty-something society girls. At least one of her friends is bound to be engaged. If I can get the right sort of bride-to-be to the store, it could make a huge difference. Just one would do. A well-connected, high-profile one who’ll tell all her friends how wonderful Pettett and Mayfield’s is.”
“Only business, hey? The delectable James has nothing to do with it? Seems it’s more like a date than work to me.”
Beth’s cheeks heated at Anita’s raised eyebrows and knowing grin.
“It’s most certainly not a date. He needs a partner.” The defensiveness in her tone spoiled the dignified effect she’d aimed for. “We were good friends that summer, and we didn’t have the chance to say goodbye when they forced me to leave. One last evening to find closure, that’s all. There’s no hope for a relationship. We’re far too different.”
Anita wouldn’t understand if she told her the real reason they could never be a couple. No-one who hadn’t been on the receiving end of contempt and snobbishness could.
And she preferred not to disclose just how bad her background was, even to her best friend.
“Right.” Anita’s disbelief was obvious. She looked across to the escalators. “Everything comes when it’s talked about, as my old Irish Grannie would say. And I have a customer interested in my fine toasters, too. I’ll leave you love birds alone.”
With a grin and a totally unnecessary wink, she sashayed back to her own department.
Beth took one peek at James striding toward her, a determined but shy smile on his face, and hurried behind her counter. The extra security it gave her helped. Something to lean on, and a chance to hide her wobbling legs.
No point raising a hand to her hair, despite her unaccustomed urge to primp. With the grey hairspray in it again, it was sure to be a mess.
The mere sight of him, in faded jeans and with a knit shirt covering what was surely far more muscle than any physicist needed, shook her to the core.
Dear Lord, help me. I can’t respond this way to James. I mustn’t.
She couldn’t help the little jump her heart gave when his smile broadened as their eyes met. His masculine presence and the subtle scent of his aftershave fluttered her far more than it ought to as he placed his hands on the counter between them.
Nothing wrong with returning his smile, but her unruly senses ignored her stern order to behave.
“Hello Beth. How’s my favourite ghoul?”
An eye roll was the best reply to his terrible pun. That her voice would probably quaver had nothing to do with it.
“Don’t worry, I won’t stay long.” Even behind his glasses, those long eyelashes of his should be illegal.
“I assume you’re here for Imogen’s present?”
Somehow, the words came out far more strong and confident than she expected.
His bewildered frown suggested he’d forgotten it again and wasn’t here for it at all.
“Um, yes, of course. The present.”
Then he smiled that heart-fluttering smile. “You know full well I didn’t remember. I wanted to check what time you could finish up here tonight. Yesterday you said you left at six thirty, but I calculate we need to be in the cab by six fifteen to be sure of making it there in time.”
Her face crunched up. All this excitement and anxiety about the wedding, and she just realised she’d forgotten to ask Cara if she’d come to this department first when she did her rounds.
James made a powerful distraction.
A tentative expression filled his eyes as his smile faltered. “You are still coming to the wedding? You haven’t changed your mind?”
“I said I would and I will. But I forgot to tell my supervisor I needed to leave early.”
The unsure look on his face hurt to see. On impulse, she reached a hand out to reassure him it was a mistake and not intentional. But when her fingertips touched his arm, warmth flooded her.
As if he’d burned it, her hand jerked away. Seemed her senses were more susceptible to him now than at sixteen, not less.
He recoiled too, stuffing his hand into his jeans pocket. Had the same heat coursed up his arm, too, or was it only that her over-reaction startled him?
Neither of them were love-struck teenagers anymore.
They’d been too careful and too shy to so much as hold hands back then.
“I’ll ask Cara now. It shouldn’t be a problem to get away a little earlier. Maybe not right on six fifteen, but as near as I can get. And how about I keep the present here and bring it with me? Less chance of it getting left behind.”
Gabbling her words to hide the way he rocked her emotions, she had no idea how she’d survive a whole evening with him.
“That sounds a good plan.” He glanced at his watch. “I’d better get back to the lab. See you later.” His parting smile looked a lot less false than hers had felt.
As he walked back to the escalators, his broad shoulders attracted her gaze like a magnet.
Lord, why did You make him so handsome? I’m not worried about Imogen any more. I’m worried about getting through tonight without falling for him again.
The afternoon seemed to zip by in a moment and drag endlessly, both at once.
No doubt James would give a complicated physicist’s explanation for it that would go way over her head, starting with General Relativity and ending up in Quantum Mechanics and String Theory. All Beth knew was that far too soon, she was hurrying up the stairs to meet James, with Imogen’s present clutched to her chest.
It wasn’t just the stairs making her pulse race as she pushed open the heavy green door and saw him waiting, back in his Thunderbirds costume, a black cab ready at the kerb.
“Sorry I’m late. The takings wouldn’t add up right.”
It wasn’t just the rush to get there making her voice annoyingly breathless, either.
His joyous welcoming smile flipped her tum
my right over. Those pesky doubt crows transformed into hummingbirds.
The mere touch of his hand on her elbow as he opened the cab door for her and helped her in had her knees weak and her head spinning.
Suddenly shy and unable to catch her breath again, scooting to the far corner of the wide back seat to put as much space as possible between them seemed the best policy. For extra protection, the big gift box stayed firmly beside her on the bench seat, instead of on the seat in front.
But when she snuck a glance toward him, he was looking at her too, his eyes warm and steady. Their gaze met, and clung. Her chest was so full it might burst.
He reached a hand across the space dividing them, a hopeful smile curving his lips.
Not wise to touch him again.
This evening was business, and closure, right?
But something in her whispered to meet him half way. Almost as if it had a mind of its own, her hand lifted to rest on the box.
Instead of simply holding her hand, he laced his fingers between hers, and his thumb slowly stroked the back of her hand.
Her cheeks heated, and far more than her fingers trembled at the warmth of his touch. Such a simple, innocent caress to cause such a strong reaction.
But like a bell ringing clear and sweet and true, the connection between them felt right.
Nothing had changed. No overnight miracle turned her into the type of girl he deserved. Common sense nagged her to pull her hand away and keep a sensible distance.
But she had to trust that God had given her this gift of an evening for a reason.
Her hand stayed where it was.
In his.
Right where it seemed to belong.
Chapter 5
Something intense and electric passed between them in the dimly lit cab. James stared across at Beth, and squeezed her capable little hand as it rested in his, on top of the gift package she’d so carefully wrapped.
Perhaps he hadn’t needed to worry so much about the way she’d pulled back like he was poison in the store. Or the way she’d barely met his eyes at first, then slid as far away as she could across the cab’s wide seat.
Those worries receded after seeing the glow in her brown eyes.
Hard though it was to believe she’d care for him, it seemed perhaps she did.
Even her glancing away wasn’t cause for concern. Not when a smile curved her sweet lips, and the ghastly grey make-up she wore couldn’t hide her betraying blush.
It was the blush that did it for him.
An idiot grin spread across his face in response, as something in his chest swelled in a way that was quite incompatible with all known cardiac physiology.
Incompatible or not, it happened.
Meeting Beth again outshone even today’s email from Cambridge, with its strong hints that they’d soon be making the job offer he’d coveted since his high school days back in Massachusetts.
There were plenty of other professorships.
There was only one Beth.
None of his accomplishments measured to this moment.
Her ugly outfit, the disfiguring make-up, and the grey powder dusting her chestnut hair didn’t dim her beauty one bit. She’d always been the loveliest girl he’d ever known. With a lovely mind too. No woman he’d met since their summer together had matched her intelligence, insight, and understanding.
Forget neurobiology and hormones. His response to her was way more than a mere physiological reaction. Like quantum entanglement, hard to explain.
But God was bigger than science.
Convincing her to partner him for the wedding hadn’t been too difficult after all. Perhaps in time, convincing her to partner him for life would be easy, too.
Not that he’d push his chances.
At least she hadn’t pulled her hand away yet.
“I’m surprised at Imogen having a themed wedding, especially Halloween,” Beth said, breaking the silence that stretched between them.
“Unexpected, isn’t it. Hugo, the groom, seems a nice chap, I’ve met him a couple of times. He’s designed some sort of role-playing alternate universe game, one that involves dressing up in costumes. I supposed it was to do with that.”
He smiled. “They’re getting married inside Tower Bridge. Lots of gothic atmosphere and steam driven machinery, apparently.”
Beth raised her eyebrows. “I’d have thought Westminster Abbey was more her style.”
“I hear she tried for the Abbey, but even she couldn’t pull the right strings to make it happen.”
He laughed, but Beth didn’t.
“Not getting her way must have been a new experience for her.” The bitterness tingeing her voice didn’t surprise him.
“I know for sure she didn't get her own way at least once before. She’s marrying Hugo.” A cryptic answer to Beth’s comment, but she was smart enough to figure what he meant without explanations.
Anger still burned in his own gut over how Immy had treated Beth. Openly triumphant at getting Beth sent away from Tetherton Hall, she’d made no secret that she’d seen the younger girl as a rival.
His temper normally stayed well-controlled, but he’d lost it over that. Satisfying as telling Immy he’d never marry her had been, it hadn't helped bring Beth back, or helped persuade Beth’s aunt to pass over her contact information.
She’d disappeared as completely as particles in quantum foam, winking out of his existence.
Until yesterday.
Thank You Lord for this miracle.
“Will you be okay with seeing her again?” he asked.
“I’m not the doormat I was at sixteen. What happened ten years ago is ancient history.” Beth’s lips pursed and her hand quivered in his grip.
His fingers tightened on hers. “I hope not all that happened ten years ago is ancient history.”
A little shy and tentative, her eyes lifted to his. Once again their gaze held and that connection he’d never experienced with anyone but her passed between them.
“Not all of it, no.”
No harm assuming she meant the parts of their shared history he wanted her to, the part about them, the kindredness of spirit they’d felt. “That’s good news.”
But an old line echoed in his mind — ‘Those who fail to learn from history are doomed to repeat it’.
Lord, help us learn what we need to learn to make things work out differently this time. I don’t want to lose Beth again.
“Don’t worry about Immy,” he said. “I doubt she’ll say anything to you. Tonight may be all about her, but this is a new beginning for us, as well.”
“It’s okay.” Her words said one thing, but her voice sounded small and choked, barely audible over the traffic noise around them. She looked away, her hand dragging ever so slight, as if she were trying to tug it from his grasp.
Was it the thought of Immy or the mention of there being an us that bothered her?
He held on for a fraction of a second, then let her hand go, resting his beside it instead.
If she didn’t want to be held, he wouldn’t hold her.
As soon as he let go, her fingers stretched out to meet his, interlocking once again. Perhaps knowing he’d let go if she wanted was all she needed. But she didn’t meet his gaze again, looking down toward her knees, where her other hand fiddled with a fake blood stain on her dirty white gown.
“I’m sorry if I’m going too fast for you. But I don’t want to play games. Some things are too important for that.” One big lesson from their history — tell her how he felt.
Not something he had practice in. Mother and Dad hardly acknowledged feelings existed, let alone encouraged talking about them.
He and Beth had been so young. Especially Beth. He’d been half-way through his degree, and she hadn’t even started Sixth Form. It seemed too soon to ask for more than friendship. Especially when he had no data from his past experience to suggest anyone would care for him.
Him, not the heir to the Tetherton-Hart lineage.
Beth said nothing. This time she pulled her hand right away, leaving his cold and empty.
Time to slow things down. Scaring her off wasn’t part of his plan. He’d let go for now, if that was what she needed.
But he wouldn’t let go of her forever. Not this time.
He looked out the window. Though being in the cab with Beth suited him fine, the trip seemed to be taking forever.
Still on Park Lane. Cars and buses choked the wide road. London traffic was notoriously slow, but they’d made far less progress than he’d expected they would.
Checking his phone, he confirmed the route he’d mapped earlier.
So much for trying to be organized. His mistake had been to believe the time the mapping program said the journey needed when he’d asked it at two pm on Thursday.
Now, in Friday rush hour, it could be over three times as long.
They’d be late to the wedding, for sure.
The cab stopped at a red light. He tapped on the glass window separating them from the driver, and opened it.
Bad timing.
As the window slid open, the cabbie leaned hard on his horn at the cyclist shooting across against a red light in front of them. He let loose a stream of bad language fit to make a sailor’s parrot blush.
The driver turned back and threw Beth an apologetic glance. “Sorry, luv. Cyclists. Think the road rules don’t apply to them.”
She gave a half-smile and shrugged.
“What can I do you for?” the cabbie asked.
“We need to be at Tower Bridge by seven. Can we make it?”
The driver guffawed, like it was the best joke he’d heard all day. “Twenty minutes? Only if this cab grows wings and flies there. Not a chance.”
“Do your best, please. We’re going to a wedding.”
The driver laughed again. “Hope you’re not the best man.” He tapped his sat nav. “Traffic’s heavy all the way there. I’ll nip through Green Park and past Buck Palace, but no guarantees.”
Love In Store Books 1-3: Collection of three sweet and clean Christian romances with a London setting: The Wedding List, Believe in Me, & A Model Bride Page 4