by Irene Hannon
“She’s a lovely woman,” Bill replied.
“But Christine’s barely been gone three months, Bill. I loved her! I shouldn’t feel this way!” The conflict in Grant’s heart was reflected in his eyes.
“She’s really been gone a lot longer than that, Grant,” Bill reminded him gently. “Almost three years. You’ve been alone a long time.”
“But I loved her!” Grant repeated, his voice anguished.
“I know you did. You two had a wonderful marriage. And your loyalty and faithfulness and devotion to her after the accident, long after all of us had given up hope of her recovery, was an inspiration to everyone. You have nothing to feel guilty about. If anything, you’re to be commended. I think your diligence and commitment these past three years is best summed up in scripture—well done, good and faithful servant.”
Doubt clouded Grant’s eyes. “Even if that’s true, it seems too soon to have such strong feelings for someone else.”
“You know, the Lord works in mysterious ways,” Bill observed, his expression thoughtful. “Morgan came into your life at this point for a reason, Grant. Just as Christine left it at this point for a reason. I’ve thought about the timing myself, and it occurred to me that maybe God left Christine with you so you wouldn’t be alone while you waited for a special woman to come along who would fill your heart with love. And when she did, the Lord called Christine home.”
Jolted, Grant stared at Bill. Could he be right? Was this all part of God’s plan?
“In my heart, I also know that Christine wouldn’t have wanted you to mourn forever,” Bill continued.
“She was a warm, giving woman who understood the value and importance of love. She wouldn’t have wanted you to be alone.”
Maybe that was true, Grant conceded. It would be in keeping with Christine’s generous nature. But how could he be sure? “I’d like to think you’re right,” he replied.
“Pray on it,” Bill suggested. “Open your heart to God’s guidance. That’s who I turn to when I’m confused. And He always comes through, if we listen for His voice.” Bill took a last sip of his coffee, then stood and placed a hand on the younger man’s shoulders.
“Putting my vocation aside for a moment, may I tell you something as a friend? Morgan is an extraordinary woman. I’d think long and hard about letting her walk away.”
Grant’s face grew bleak. “I may not be able to stop her even if I try. She comes from a different world, Bill. And even though she’s changed a lot, I have a feeling that world still has appeal for her. When the right offer comes along, I think she’ll leave.”
Bill gazed at him steadily. “Maybe you could make an offer that would change her mind.”
Grant didn’t know how to respond to that. So he remained silent.
“Think about it,” Bill advised, squeezing his shoulder.
As Grant watched Bill leave, he lifted his mug and took a sip. Ever since he’d first experienced an attraction to Morgan, he’d worked hard to stifle it because of the guilt that had overwhelmed him. But all at once his heart felt lighter. Bill didn’t think his feelings were inappropriate. In fact, he’d encouraged him to pursue them. Had suggested that Morgan might be willing to remain in Seaside if the right offer came along. An offer only Grant could make.
Grant wasn’t sure Bill was right. But most of the time his brother-in-law’s insights were on target. So perhaps there was a chance that things could turn out well after all. He wasn’t ready to take such a bold step yet. But perhaps, in time, he would be.
And suddenly Grant experienced an emotion that had long been in short supply in his life.
Hope.
Morgan dialed A.J’s number and strolled over to the bay window to look at the sea. Her sister answered on the fourth ring, sounding a bit breathless.
“A.J.? Did I catch you at a bad time?”
“Morgan? No. I just got out of the shower, so I had to make a mad dash for the phone.”
“Shall I call you back later?”
“No, I’m fine. So to what do I owe the honor of this call?”
“Do I have to have a reason for calling?”
“No. But you usually do.”
Her sister was right, Morgan acknowledged. But that was in the past. She intended to make some changes, starting today. “I just called to chat.”
There was a brief silence on the other end as A.J. digested this news. “For real?”
“Yeah. For real.”
“Cool! So how’s life in the boonies?”
“We do have running water here, you know,” Morgan informed her with a grin.
“I hear the electricity is iffy, though.”
“Very funny. Actually, life here is okay. I’m standing at the window right now enjoying the view of the sea. It’s an incredible blue, and the sky is filled with huge, puffy clouds. I can see why Aunt Jo liked this place so much.”
Again, there were a few beats of silence before A.J. spoke. “It sounds great. And I’m glad you’re taking the time to notice. So are you a lady of leisure today? I remember when you used to work on Sundays.”
“Those days are past. Other than church this morning, I have no plans for the day, except maybe a long walk.”
This time, the silence stretched even longer. “Are you sure this is Morgan Williams, formerly of Boston, sister of A.J. and Clare? The workaholic career woman?”
“Former workaholic,” Morgan corrected her.
“Well, praise the Lord! It sounds like you’ve finally seen the light.”
“I guess you could say that. But it took some pretty dramatic events before the message sank in. At first, I thought losing my job was a catastrophe.”
“And you don’t now?”
“Let’s just say I have a different perspective. I still love my work, and Kit—Grant’s sister—has been sending some small jobs my way, so I’m keeping my skills fresh. Plus, the Good Shepherd project is huge, which helps, too. But I guess I’ve come to realize there are other, more important things in life.”
“I’m happy for you, Morgan. I’ve been praying for this day.”
“Looks like your prayers were heard.”
“So what are your plans? Are you still job-hunting?”
“Yes. I have to have some kind of income. But the jobs I’ve gotten through Kit will tide me over until something turns up.”
“So you don’t have any immediate plans to leave Maine, even though you’ve met the four-week residency stipulation?”
“No. Where would I go? At least I have some work here—which is more than I have anywhere else.”
“Hey, maybe if you’re still there when our six-month assignments from Aunt Jo are over, Clare and I can come visit.”
“It would be nice for the three of us to get together,” Morgan agreed.
“Yeah. We missed you at Christmas. But at least Grant’s family adopted you for the day, so you weren’t alone. How is he doing, by the way?”
Morgan’s eyes softened in sympathy. “I think he’s having a rough time.”
“That’s understandable,” A.J. reasoned. “What a terrible tragedy.”
“He has a very strong faith, so I’m sure that helps a lot.”
“It does.” A.J.’s prompt reply reminded Morgan that her sister spoke from experience. “But it also helps to know others care.” Then she shifted to a more upbeat tone. “So can I assume that I’ll be hearing from you more in the future?”
“I think that’s a safe bet. How are things going with the bookshop?”
A.J. chuckled. “That’s a subject for a whole separate conversation.”
“Are you trying to give me an incentive to call again soon?”
“Yeah. Is it working?”
“As a matter of fact, yes,” Morgan said, laughing.
“I’ll call you next week, okay?”
“Sounds good to me. And Morgan…welcome back to the fold.”
As Morgan replaced the receiver, a gentle smile tugged at the corners of her mout
h. A.J.’s spontaneous, upbeat attitude had sometimes bothered the old Morgan, who thought her younger sister was out of touch with the real world of fast-paced business.
But as Morgan had learned over the past few weeks, she had been the one out of touch with all the things that mattered most. The lesson hadn’t been easy to learn. It had taken a radical shake-up in her world to put her on the right track. Now that she was on it, however, she was determined not to lose her way again.
It would be a challenge, though. Here in Maine, surrounded by people who had their priorities straight, who took time to smell the flowers along the way, the lesson was easy to remember. Back in the big city, it would be tougher.
Maybe that was why Aunt Jo had loved this cottage so much, Morgan speculated. Her great-aunt had been a businesswoman—albeit not as driven as Morgan—and running a business took its toll. Maybe she had come here to renew and refresh. Not a bad plan, except Morgan had no idea what she and Grant would do with the cottage once the six months were over. He owned half of it. She couldn’t expect him to maintain it just for her occasional use.
She supposed they’d have to discuss it soon. Although it probably wasn’t high on his priority list at the moment, she acknowledged.
Casting a glance at the calendar in the kitchen, she noted that the Good Shepherd board meeting was in ten days. It was unlikely she’d see Grant before then. But A.J.’s words echoed in her mind. “It helps to know others care.” Morgan knew that Grant’s family had rallied around him more than ever since Christine died. But it couldn’t hurt for her to extend a hand of caring and friendship. Maybe after the meeting, she’d follow his example and offer to buy him a cup of coffee, as he had once done for her.
In the meantime, she needed to think of just the right way to phrase the invitation. It had to come across as warm and friendly, but not intrusive or pushy. Just one friend extending a caring hand to another.
For someone who wrote ad copy every day, she figured it should be a piece of cake.
By the time the day of the meeting rolled around, Morgan had finely honed the exact phrasing of her invitation.
Except Grant didn’t show up.
Instead, Sylvia took his place at the head of the table and called the meeting to order. “Let’s get started, everyone. Grant called me last night and asked that I preside. He had to have emergency arthroscopic surgery on his knee yesterday, but he’s home and doing okay. He apologizes for his absence, especially with the fund-raising drive in full swing, but I assured him we understood and promised to give him a full report after the meeting. John, will you start us off with a prayer?”
As they bowed their heads, Morgan only half listened to the minister’s words. Her thoughts were on Grant instead. For the next two hours, she did her best to focus on Good Shepherd business, but as soon as the meeting was over she headed back toward Seaside, making a quick stop at the one restaurant in town that was open in the off season. Even though arthroscopic surgery wasn’t that invasive, she was sure Grant would be laid up for a couple of days. It would be a nice gesture to drop off a meal from the local café.
Morgan had never been to Grant’s house before, but he’d given her his address and home phone number when she’d first arrived, and she’d recorded them in her pocket organizer. She dug it out of her purse now, and asked the woman at the restaurant for directions to his street.
As Morgan made her way through the village, it occurred to her that she had never made a conscious decision to visit Grant. It had been an automatic, reflexive response—much like a knee jerk induced by the tapping of a rubber hammer. But as she approached his street, she grew uncertain.
Slowing the car, she considered retreating. But she’d already bought the food. And she couldn’t be more than a block or two from his house. So she might as well follow through. If he didn’t want visitors, she’d just drop off her care package and leave.
A couple of minutes later, she pulled up in front of his house, a tiny bungalow on the outskirts of the town, set back from the road amid a grove of pine trees. The clapboard siding was painted a light gray color, and sky-blue shutters framed the windows. The house and grounds were meticulous, Morgan noted, as she pulled into the driveway and parked behind his truck.
For a couple of minutes she just sat there. Then, taking a deep breath, she reached for the bag and headed toward the door before her nerve deserted her.
Morgan pressed the door bell, finding some reassurance in the lovely tole-painted welcome sign that hung on the front door. She suspected that it had been placed there by Christine, and she hoped the message still held true.
As the seconds ticked by with no response, Morgan pressed the bell again. Since his truck was in the driveway, she was sure Grant was home. But maybe he was confined to bed and unable to get to the door. She supposed she could try the back door, or ring him from her cell phone, or…
Suddenly the door was pulled open, and Grant, balanced on crutches, looked at her in surprise.
“Sylvia told us about your surgery. I figured you’d be laid up for a couple of days, so I wanted to drop off a care package.” Morgan held up the white sack, which was emitting enticing aromas.
Grant eyed it hungrily. “Is that by any chance the lasagna special from the café in town?”
“None other.”
He moved aside, wielding the awkward crutches as best he could, and swung the door wider. “Come in, oh bringer of food!”
“Just point me to your kitchen,” Morgan said as she stepped across the threshold.
He gestured toward the back of the house. “It’s not hard to find. Christine and I used to joke that someone with long enough arms could reach just about anything in this place if they stood in the middle of the living room.”
Morgan gave the house a swift perusal as she made her way to the tiny efficiency kitchen. Grant wasn’t kidding. The bungalow was minuscule. The living room, dining area and kitchen were just one long, open room that ran the entire length of the right side of the house. A small hall branched off to the left, where she assumed the bedrooms were—if there was more than one. She noticed a photo of Aunt Jo on a tiny table as she passed, and she paused to look at it.
“That was taken at the cottage a couple of years ago,” Grant offered.
Morgan lifted the silver frame and studied her aunt’s face. Though nearly eighty, she looked far younger. Her eyes were alive and vibrant, her smile warm and welcoming.
“She looks happy,” Morgan commented.
“She was. The cottage was her haven. She was always relaxed and at peace there.”
With sudden remorse, Morgan wished she’d taken time to get to know her great-aunt better. But regrets wouldn’t change the past. All she could do was focus on the future—an attitude she had a feeling Aunt Jo would approve of. And even if Morgan hadn’t known Aunt Jo as well as she would have liked, the older woman—through her bequest—had still influenced her great-niece’s life, changed it for the better. And for that Morgan was grateful.
“So how about that food?” Grant prompted hopefully.
Morgan turned to him with a grin. “Hungry, are we?”
“You might say that.”
She put the picture back on the table and walked toward the kitchen. As she removed the disposable container from the bag, Grant maneuvered himself toward a chair. “Can you stay a few minutes?”
“I didn’t plan to make this a social call.”
“It’s nice to have some company,” he assured her.
“It’s been pretty quiet around here for the past couple of days. Dad and Uncle Pete have their hands full at the shop with me out of commission, and the twins have the flu, so Kit has been busy nursing them.”
She busied herself setting out the food, debating whether to stay. In the end, she gave into the temptation. “Okay. What would you like to drink?”
“I think that’s my line.”
“Not today.”
“Thanks,” he acceded with a smile. “Ther
e’s soda in the refrigerator. Help yourself to one, too.”
While she retrieved the drinks, he lowered himself carefully into a chair.
“That looks painful,” she sympathized.
“It’s not that bad,” he replied with a dismissive shrug.
“So what happened?”
“I think I mentioned when you first arrived that I’d slipped on the ice a few years back. Well, I injured the cartilage then and, in hindsight, probably should have had it fixed right away. But I figured I could live with it. Then, last week, I twisted it again when Dad and I were moving a large breakfront. That pretty much finished off the ligament and locked up my knee. In my business, immobility is a problem. The good news is my orthopedic surgeon is an old school friend, and he got me in on an emergency basis. I should be up and around in a few days.”
He tackled the food with gusto while Morgan sipped her soda and took in the homey touches throughout the cottage. “You have a nice place.”
“It has a lot of happy memories. But it doesn’t have a great water view, like Jo’s cottage. And it’s too small. Christine and I never intended to stay here forever. Once we had children…” His voice trailed off and his hand stilled. Then, with an obvious effort, he made himself continue eating. “Anyway, at some point I expect I’ll sell it. So how did the board meeting go?”
“Fine. Mary said the invitations went out ten days ago, and they’re generating a good response. The dinner should be a huge success.”
At the mention of the dinner, Grant’s brow furrowed. Kit’s suggestion that he take Morgan had been on his mind a lot. But he was still hesitant. “Look, about the dinner…”
“Hey, Grant, it’s okay,” she cut him off. “I know Kit meant well, but I’ve gone to hundreds of those kinds of events alone. It’s no big deal. So don’t worry about it. By the way, I’ve also managed to line up some more coverage in area newspapers, in addition to the story in Boston.”