Memories of his sweet face last night filled Beth’s mind. His concern that what he’d said at the wedding upset her so much. The earnest way he’d explained.
Lifting her head to meet Anita’s concerned gaze, her lips twisted in a smile. “Not James, no. A few things that happened on Friday night made me think so, but we had our wires well and truly crossed. It’s everyone else. His friends, his mother, his colleagues.”
She looked down to the floor, struggling to drag a breath into suddenly constricted lungs. “Even my own family never believed we could be together. They’d treat it as if I had won some fluke lottery.”
Brows pulled together in a question, Anita shook her head. “But it’s not a problem with James, why is it a problem?”
Beth sat on her stool and hunched over, hugging her knees. “Because it would be a problem, he just doesn’t see it yet. He’d end up hating me for dragging him down.”
“Still not getting it. One, the idea of you dragging anyone down is crazy, and two, he doesn’t seem the type to worry about that stuff.”
Explanation time.
“At eleven, I won a scholarship to a private school. The girls there hated me because my Daddy wasn’t rich like theirs. I was a charity girl from a sink estate.” Humiliation heated her cheeks, and her hands raised to cover them. “And my old friends began to hate me because they thought I had posh friends now and looked down on them.”
She peeked up at her friend.
Anita fiddled with her big earring, but seemed to understand. Her headshake this time held regret, not disagreement. Moving nearer, she squeezed Beth’s shoulder. “That stinks.”
“I didn’t fit in anywhere.” Her reply emerged as a strangled murmur. “I don’t want that for James. I especially don’t want that for our children. His mother as good as promised to disown him if he kept seeing me. How could our relationship survive that? To live with that constant disapproval from everyone is too much.”
Memories of the old pain crunched her stomach for a moment, bending her almost double.
Anita put a warm arm around her shoulder and hugged her.
Beth accepted the solace gratefully for a moment.
Then shaking herself, she stood up, forcing a smile. “I’m okay. James and I just aren’t meant to be. I need to focus on my blessings. I have good friends, like you. I have a good job. I even have the chance to buy my own little house. What’s to feel sorry for myself about?”
Plenty. James counted for more than any of that.
But now was as good a time as any to begin making herself forget him.
She picked up her polishing cloth again. “Back to work. You have a customer.”
Keeping busy got her through the rest of the day.
Yesterday’s shy bride came back, with one of her bridesmaids this time instead of her mother, and changed half the things her mother had insisted she have on her gift list. A few Sunday afternoon browsers bought items. Not sensational sales, but enough.
Then Imogen, looking effortlessly chic in designer jeans and a beautifully cut jacket that probably cost more than Beth earned in a month, stepped off the escalators and headed her way.
Beth didn’t know whether to run, hide under her counter, or stand her ground.
Surely Imogen wouldn’t go to the trouble of tracking her down to have another shot at her.
On second thoughts, maybe Imogen would.
Beth stood her ground, sucking in a deep breath. Too late now to run or hide. Willing herself to be strong, with a concrete bunker protecting her already shattered heart.
She saw exactly when Imogen recognised her.
That confident stride faltered, and uncertainty crossed her model thin, perfectly made up face. Oddly, Imogen looked as if much the same choices ran through her mind. As if she hesitated to approach Beth.
Then she visibly straightened and marched over. Clearly, Imogen hadn’t come looking for her.
Relief left Beth limp, leaning on the counter for support.
The other woman almost smiled as she approached. An oddly nervous smile, but still a smile.
Beth straightened her back too, and tried to paste on a suitably professional smile in return.
“Beth. I didn’t expect to find you working here.” Imogen held out a card. “I came because of this.”
The store card she’d slipped into James’s gift box before wrapping it, a courtesy she added if the bride wasn’t one of ‘hers’. That way, the recipient knew where to exchange an unwanted gift, or to look for matching items.
“How can I help you, Mrs Featherstonehaugh?”
Such a typically Imogen name. Beth made sure to pronounce it Fanshaw, as Hugo had at the wedding.
She wouldn’t give Imogen any ammunition to bully her, or any sign how much the past bullying had affected her, either.
Imogen giggled. “Ridiculous, isn’t it? It will take me a while to get used to that name. Hardly anyone knows not to pronounce it the way it’s written.”
A surprisingly sweet smile bloomed on Imogen’s face.
“I didn’t expect to see you with James at the wedding.” Her hand slipped across the counter to touch Beth’s. “I’ve wanted the chance to tell you I’m sorry.”
Beth resisted the urge to snatch back her hand and wipe it on her skirt. The slow burn of anger in her belly stopped her forgiving so easily.
“That was an unkind trick,” she said.
Imogen flushed dull red. “I’m so sorry. I meant to throw away all those invites I’d written on. I wanted costumes for everyone, but Mummy talked me out of it. My dress and choice of venue horrified her quite enough. I didn’t mean to single James out. As soon as I saw you I guessed what had happened.”
“James shrugged it off, but I was mortified.” Beth didn’t try to keep the chill from her voice. James being the only one with the wrong invitation seemed too unlikely for pure coincidence.
Imogen grimaced. “Of course. I’d be mortified too. All I can say is I’m sorry. You must have thought me horribly vindictive! I didn’t intend it, I promise. It really was just a silly mistake.”
Beth had no intention of unbending. “If you wanted, you could have apologised to us at the reception. You were hardly friendly.”
Imogen ducked, almost as if ashamed. “I know. I was wrong. It surprised me to see the two of you together. I’ve always been a little guilty about what a spoiled brat I was that summer. But I thought afterward, how perfect you looked together, and what sports you’d both been, not getting upset over the costumes. You both have such good hearts. Please, accept my apology.”
Her smile and outstretched hand gave a chance to let go of the past.
Beth’s face crumpled. Lowering her head, she pressed a hand over the ache behind her breastbone. She should forgive, but how could she, after ten years blaming Imogen for everything wrong in her life?
But it wasn’t just Imogen. It had been her parents. Her aunt. The bullies at school.
All her life, everyone had told her not to try aspiring for more, and every time she tried, it didn’t work out, proving them right.
She’d even been angry with God, frustrated and unhappy with His plan for her life.
Seemed she’d been wrong about Imogen. And if she had that so wrong, what else was she wrong about?
God?
And James, too? Oh, how she hoped so!
Lifting her head, she leaned across the counter, and shook the other girl’s hand. “Okay.” Hardly enthusiastic, but done.
“Good.” Letting go of Beth’s hand, Imogen’s smile widened. “That’s a huge weight of guilt off me. You two made a great couple, always reading and studying and walking together. I’m pleased my jealousy didn’t wreck what you and James had.”
Astonishment shook Beth. “You were jealous of me?”
Imogen raised a perfectly groomed eyebrow. “Of course. Why else would I behave so dreadfully?”
Beth rubbed her throbbing forehead. Any more and her brain might explode. �
�But you told me I wasn’t good enough for him, because I came from a council house. You said his family would never accept me and I’d ruin his career.”
Imogen hung her head. “I was young. I wanted you gone. I had a pretty face and the right parents, but you talked science and philosophy and religion with James. You’re way cleverer than me, and he was crazy in love with you. Obviously, he still is.”
Fragile tendrils of hope uncurled in Beth’s chest. A smile curved her lips. Perhaps, she and James had a chance after all.
If he’d forgive her for running away again.
“It’s okay. I didn’t have to believe what you said.” She’d chosen to believe it, because it fit in with her conviction that people judged her and found her wanting.
She’d cared more about what other people thought than the truth.
Imogen smiled. “That’s sorted then.” She tapped the card from the gift box on the counter top. “But what I’m really here for is to buy another piece by the same artist as the clock. Hugo loves it. We’re jetting off to Thailand tomorrow for a month, and I want to take his birthday present with us.”
Only a few minutes later, she left, happily clutching a nicely wrapped package.
The moment Imogen walked out of earshot, Anita popped her head around the corner like an irrepressible jack-in-the-box.
“I heard everything. That was her, wasn’t it,” she declared dramatically.
Beth nodded, standing shell-shocked and shaking by her cash register.
“Now we just need James to turn up here again, so you two can make up.” Anita grinned, and brushed her hands together as if their happy ever after already happened.
Beth wished that was true, but her sinking stomach wasn’t so sure.
Her intent had been very different. Self-defensive, and for his sake too. Not malicious. But she’d behaved almost as badly to James last night as Imogen had to her ten years prior. She should have let James decide what he wanted, not let her fear do the deciding for him.
Once again, she’d run off and left him. James wouldn’t come chasing her a third time.
Any chasing now was up to her.
Chapter 19
Beth made it to the church James had pointed out the night before, just in time for Evensong.
Outside the huge double doors, she hesitated, breath suddenly catching in her throat. Being here might be another mistake. The simple church she attended could easily fit in the entrance hall of this magnificent stone building.
Shaking her head, she stepped through the door. This was about overcoming fear, not letting it stop her at the first hurdle.
An attendant closed the door behind her and she scanned for James.
Please, let him be here.
Worshippers packed most of the carved pews, filling the beautiful interior. Hard to spot one person when all there to go on was the backs of a sea of bowed heads. She couldn’t locate him. But she could see that every woman in the place was far better dressed than she was.
This wasn’t the place for someone like her.
Face flaming and tempted to leave, she shrugged off the doubt and cringed into an empty pew, sitting directly behind a pillar where no-one would see her.
Why did everything turn into more embarrassment?
Beth closed her eyes, but her crushing sense of inadequacy got in the way of stilling her restless mind and finding God.
The noise of the door opening turned her attention, giving her an excuse to stop trying.
A bag lady came in, aged and wrinkled beyond her years, rustling an armful of plastic shopping bags.
I hope she doesn’t sit next to me.
Vague guilt gnawed Beth for such a wrong thought, a thought that had crushed her own soul many times, and in church too.
Of course, the woman headed straight for her pew and sat next to her, as if the prayer worked like a magnet.
The service began, words of worship washing over her, but she made her responses mechanically. The sour odour emanating from the collection of tattered and soiled clothing layered on the bag lady’s thin form made a powerful distraction.
Even the soaring voices of the choir didn’t reach her.
Then the robed minister read from Matthew 7.
It was as if Jesus spoke directly to her. ‘Judge not, that ye be not judged.’
But she’d judged the homeless woman. She’d judged her parents. She’d judged so many people in her life.
‘For with what judgement ye judge, ye shall be judged: and with what measure ye mete, it shall be measured to you again.’
So of course, she judged herself just as hard, and thought everyone else judged her the same.
Beth Forrest was a snob. Just as much as her Aunt Alice. Just as much as James’s mother, The Honorable Portia Tetherton.
James said their values were wrong, and hers were just as wrong.
Like the man Jesus spoke about in his parable, it was time to recognise the log in her own eye, and stop worrying about the specks of dust in other people’s.
She’d been a coward, prettying up her cowardice as being for James’s sake.
Her fear wasn’t so much for him, if they got together.
It was for herself. Her fear of being bullied again, of being an outsider again, of losing what little she had now if things didn’t work out.
She’d belittled James too, with the fear that her smallness would pull him down, letting herself worry more about what other people might think than what James thought and what God said.
Too afraid to ever truly let God’s love in, so she hadn’t allowed James’s love in either.
All that had to change, and she had no idea how.
But God did.
Straight away He gave her the answer, as the reading continued.
‘Ask, and it shall be given you; seek, and ye shall find; knock, and it shall be opened unto you.’
Of course. No-one couldn’t change themselves. Asking God was the answer.
Another Bible verse came to her mind, as a blessing, as a gift. James told her fear ran her, and he was right. But perfect love drives out fear.
Her gaze lifted to the candles glowing at the front of the church. With God’s help, she’d love that brightly, be a flame casting light in the darkness.
By hiding in her fear, thinking it kept her safe, she was part of the darkness.
At last, prayer came to her. Real prayer. The truest and deepest and most heartfelt she’d ever prayed.
Lord, fill me with Your love. Help me to trust that You will be with me, every step of the way. Perfect my love. Make my love stronger than my fear. And stop me judging. Help me to see myself and others as You see us. All equal. All worthy of love.
God’s blessed love filled her heart to overflowing.
All would be well, no matter what happened with James.
The service came to an end, with an invitation for the congregation to stand and greet each other with a holy kiss of fellowship, or at least a handshake.
The dirty bag lady huddled in the pew, still sitting, not even looking up, as if she knew no-one would approach her.
Beth touched the woman’s shoulder.
The older woman cringed away like a beaten dog, then looked up, her red rimmed eyes fearful, as if expecting criticism.
Sorrow crackled through Beth’s joy, bitter-sweet. Tears swelled her chest and stung her eyes.
That’s me. Oh dear Lord, that’s how I’ve approached my life. Fear first. Expecting judgement.
The realisation hit with sledgehammer force.
“May I shake your hand?” Beth asked, holding out a trembling hand. “It’s that part of the service.”
The bag lady’s forehead creased, as if she needed to puzzle out the words, then slowly responded.
Beth clasped the grimy hand in both of hers. A wave of acceptance flooded her, pure and sweet.
“Is there anything I can do to help you?”
The woman raised her eyebrows. “I don’t need no help, mi
ss.” Her voice wheezed out of her. “There’s a place behind the church where they feed us and I doss down. I just come in here to keep warm till it opens. Getting colder in the evenings now.”
Beth let go of the woman’s hand, took off her cardigan and held it out, praying she wasn’t doing the wrong thing and insulting the woman. It was such a small insignificant gesture.
But it was a start. A start in living less selfishly, and looking for other ways to help.
The best time to begin was now.
“Would you like this? It’s cosy. And clean. I’ve only had it on for an hour.”
At first, the woman frowned, looking ready to refuse. Then she accepted the fluffy knit. “Thanks. Bless you and your man there too.”
Her man?
Beth looked up.
In the crowded church, James had found her. He stood in front of her, with that shy sweet beloved smile of his and his hand outstretched.
Joy floated her heart as if it was a helium balloon, ready to rise to the high vaulted ceiling.
This was another chance, an undeserved blessing. She mustn’t mess up this time.
She reached for James’s hand.
Their eyes met, and questions fled, replaced by happy sureness. They needed no words. Everything that needed to be said was there, in that long tender look full of promise.
“You chased me,” he said, such wonder in his voice.
“It was my turn. I made you do more than your share.” Her smile stretched so wide her face might stay that way permanently.
Only one thing would stop that smile.
“I think we can share a holy kiss,” she murmured, then stood on tiptoe to plant a kiss full on his surprised lips.
His arms came around her, drawing her close as the kiss lengthened. This kiss went so much deeper and so much truer than their kiss on the bridge walkway at the wedding. This kiss held only love, not fear.
Beth kissed him with the fullness of her heart and soul, strong and sweet and pure, hoping he’d hear the message her lips spoke.
Her heart sang in a wordless prayer of thanksgiving.
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 12