by Lois Richer
He pressed his finger to her lips.
“If God is for you, who could be against you? It’s not you who can make this project succeed, but Him. You have to trust Him. You can do that.”
“You have a lot of faith in Him, and me.”
“Yes, I do.” He cupped his hands around her face and leaned forward, pressing his lips to hers. “Don’t give up. Trust Him to come through for you. You’re so precious to God.” Grant took a deep breath. “And to me, too, my dearest Dahlia.”
Dahlia seemed to freeze.
“Wh-what are you saying, Grant?”
He grazed his fingertip over her lovely cheek, quelling his nervousness.
“My feelings have been growing since I first met you on the train, only I didn’t know what they were. I’ve admired your generosity and dedication, the way you challenge and uplift, the way you’ve taught me how to open myself to what God has given me. You’re part of my life and my heart.”
Dahlia seemed speechless so Grant continued.
“You are a champion. You’re pure and gentle, but you endure like steel.” He gazed into her gorgeous eyes, willing her to see how much he cared. “You’ve become my best friend, the person I want to run to when life overwhelms me. I want to be there for you, Dahlia. I want to share your goals and dreams and your future. You’re very special to me, and…I love you.”
Dahlia didn’t say anything. Grant’s nerves stretched piano-wire taut. He needed to hear the words his soul craved—that she loved him.
Finally he asked, “Do you feel anything for me, Dahlia?”
Her slow smile brought joy to his heart. “I’ve come to treasure you, Grant.” Her smiled faded. “But I’m not who you need for the twins.”
Grant clasped her hand in his. “Don’t talk to me about the twins or anything else. Just tell me. Do you love me?” Grant wasn’t giving up. Dahlia mattered too much. He felt as if he was holding on to a cliff by his fingernails. One wrong word and she could send him crashing down.
“I do love you, Grant. I love you very much.”
Dahlia loved him! His soul sent a praise of thanksgiving. But when he moved to wrap his arms around her, she held up a hand.
“But that doesn’t matter.”
“It matters more than anything.”
“I have a business that takes a lot of time. I—”
“Stop, Dahlia.” He frowned. “Tell me the truth.”
She bowed her head. Her words came slowly.
“I can’t be who you need, Grant. For so long, I felt like I was under Charles’s or my parents’ thumb, like I needed them to fall back on because I’m not strong. My parents were right.”
“You are the strongest woman I know,” Grant insisted.
“You think I’m strong because I helped you with the twins.” She shook her head. “But inside I’m not like that, Grant.”
“Dahlia—”
“I pretend I’m strong because that’s the only way I know to get through things. But it’s a lie. I don’t have the strength to…share my heart with you.”
Grant was feeling so much, he hardly knew where to start. And then it became clear.
“Can I say one thing, Dahlia?” At her nod, Grant brushed a curl off her beautiful face. “The reason I said I love you has nothing to do with my daughters. I didn’t fall in love with you because you inspired confidence in me, or because you showed me that God is not like my father and that I don’t have to try to attain His attention or worry that I’m not a good enough son. I do love you for doing all those things,” he said, pressing a kiss to her hand. “But that’s not the reason I need you in my life.”
She frowned at him, uncertainty coloring her eyes.
“I love you and want you in my life because I can’t visualize a future without you, Dahlia. You are the most important part of my world.” He pulled her into his arms and held her tightly, breathing the words into her ear. “I don’t need you to be strong. And I understand what it’s like to be scared to love. But I need you, Dahlia. I love you.”
Grant eased her away and then, pressing his lips against hers, tried to show her the depth of his feelings. Gradually Dahlia began to respond, her lips melting against his, sharing the love that surged in his heart. Hope built. Maybe, maybe—
Suddenly it was over.
“I’m sorry, Grant. I can’t. I’d fail you, too.” She pulled away from him, her face averted, her voice hoarse. “And I couldn’t stand that.”
She had to get to work so Grant decided to let it go. For now. He climbed out of her truck. “If you need me—” he began.
“I won’t. I can’t. In fact, I think it’s better if we don’t see each other,” Dahlia whispered. “I’m sorry.”
His heart aching, he closed the door and watched her drive away.
*
At first loss overwhelmed Grant as he pushed through days without Dahlia. But talking to Rick helped him realize that he could no more force her to accept his love than she could force the weather to change. Grant would have to trust God to work on Dahlia.
Meanwhile, Grant was going to prove his love to her.
He gathered together leaders in the community to brainstorm how they could make Dahlia’s go-kart track functional. Everyone brought their best ideas, but no matter how hard they tried, they could not figure a way to finish the job.
“There has to be something else we can do,” Rick said.
“I agree. We can’t just let this die.” Laurel studied him. “Are you sure you’ve thought of everything?”
“Maybe there’s a way we could honor her,” Mindy suggested.
“Yes. Because her project can’t just die,” Eddie, the miner, grumbled. “Isn’t there someone whose opinion Dahlia values, someone who could help her realize how strong she is.”
Then Grant had idea. That night, after the twins were in bed, he made a call.
“Hello, this is Grant. I’m a friend of Dahlia Wheatley’s. You’re Dahlia’s mother, correct?” He held his breath, wondering if the woman would even speak to him. This was his last hope, a desperate move to prove his love to Dahlia.
“She misses you and your husband very much. I know there was a rift between you. I’m hoping this might be the time to repair it.”
“Who are you?” the querulous voice demanded.
“I’m the man who loves Dahlia more than anything else in the world. I want her to be happy and I don’t think she will be as long as she’s estranged from you.” Grant took a deep breath. “I’m hoping we can work together to make a very big dream of hers come true.”
No response. Defeated, he was ready to hang up when another voice came on the line.
“Tell us what our daughter needs,” a man ordered.
Praying for help, Grant explained Dahlia’s goal.
Chapter Fifteen
For Dahlia, Christmas had always been a season of joy and excitement. But as December passed, she couldn’t find her Christmas spirit. Each day she forced herself to smile and wish her clients merry Christmas while inside her heart shriveled a little more.
Every day, she questioned her decision to refuse Grant’s love, but she knew in her heart it had been the right one. She couldn’t be a wife and a mother without love, not even for Grant whom she loved deeply. And Grant didn’t love her. He couldn’t. Not the real, weak her.
Dahlia decorated the sleds he’d ordered, wrapping them with giant shiny bows, green for Glory, red for Grace. When he came to pick them up, she stayed in the stockroom until he left because it hurt too much to see his handsome face.
She’d taken to slipping into church at the last minute and slipping out again before the services ended to avoid him, too. At the choir cantata featuring the Lives boys, tears welled at the sight of Arlen glowing with happiness because his mother had come for a visit. His deep bass voice underpinned the others’, his confidence obvious. She knew he would leave soon to be with his mother. It was best for him, but it was like the final nail finishing her dream to ad
opt.
“We’re caroling tonight.” Marni’s morning call had come just as she was leaving for work. “You’re coming, right?”
“Sorry, I’m too busy.” Dahlia didn’t have the heart to sing with her friends. “Next year,” she promised.
The night of the Sunday school concert, Dahlia crept into church after the lights dimmed. She’d planned to stay away until the twins phoned.
“Please come and see us, Dally,” they’d begged. “We have new dresses and we’re going to say a poem. Please?”
She couldn’t refuse. She smiled, her heart aching when Glory and Grace walked onto the stage. Grant had dressed them in white lacy dresses with green trim and white patent-leather shoes. They looked adorable. Her heart swelled with pride as they recited a sweet, funny poem about love. The poignant words hit deeply, especially the part about trusting that God would make the bad parts better. If only He would.
Dahlia praised them on her way out. But then they begged her to stay and taste the cookies they’d made with their dad. Dahlia couldn’t leave, not when Grant added his urging.
“I didn’t think you’d come,” he said, staring into her eyes.
“I couldn’t disappoint the twins. Besides, I wanted to see their new dresses.”
“You wanted to see them, but not me.”
Another time she might have pretended it wasn’t true. But the stark sound of hurt in his words silenced her.
“When will you trust, Dahlia? What do I have to do to prove I love you for yourself? Christmas is a time to believe. Can’t you believe in me, just a little?”
“Believing in you isn’t the issue,” she murmured.
“I’m not giving up. Not ever,” he said tenderly. “If you can’t be strong right now, that’s okay. I’ll be strong enough for both of us.” He kissed her lightly, then drew away. “I love you, Dahlia. Trust God. He won’t let you down.”
Scarlet-cheeked and aware of interested stares, Dahlia hugged each girl, then hurriedly left, racewalking home through the snow to stop her thudding heart.
Oh, why did he have to kiss her?
She couldn’t shake off the ache that kiss engendered. Nor could she sleep later. Overhead, the northern lights danced and twirled in a vortex of green and silver. God had made them. He’d made the universe. He’d made her. Why wouldn’t He help her?
Frustrated Dahlia finally flicked on her bedside lamp and grabbed her Bible. An old church bulletin fell out on the floor. Curious, she picked it up. The verse on it blazed at her.
Despite all these things, overwhelming victory is ours through Christ who loved us.
Despite all these things—what did that mean? She turned to Romans 8 and began to read. For his sake we must be ready to face death. God wasn’t asking her to do that, but Paul had and still he’d been able to say that victory, actually overwhelming victory was his.
Dahlia continued reading to the last verse of the chapter. Nothing can ever separate us from the love of God.
The strength in those words hit home. She wasn’t alone. God had given her work, friends and—dare she believe it?—the love of a man whose integrity was unquestionable. The problem wasn’t Grant or the go-kart track or anything else. The problem was her.
God loved her. If she loved Grant, God had blessed her with the love she’d longed for her entire life. Why not embrace it?
“Because I’m scared I’ll fail him, drive him away,” she whispered.
Dahlia finally saw the truth. When she didn’t get her way, when things didn’t go the way she wanted, she blamed God! God didn’t need her or the track. But He could use them for His glory, if she let Him.
“I’ve been a spoiled child.” She gazed at the whorls of color that danced in front of her window. “If it doesn’t go my way, I don’t want to play. I’m running away, just like I did before.”
Saying the words aloud brought home the truth. In that moment, Dahlia begged forgiveness.
“The project is Yours, to do with as You please. I relinquish all control. Your will be done.”
Grant’s face swam into view, his silver-gray eyes brimming with love—for her.
“You know how much I want to trust his love. So I’m asking You to work things out. I will trust You.”
Dahlia opened her eyes. Outside, the heavens glowed. A shooting star arced overhead as if to celebrate her surrender. Her fears drained away.
She watched the lights far into the night, glorying in the freedom she now felt. Over and over Dahlia gave her inadequacies to God, clinging to one verse as she finally allowed herself to bask in the true joy of Christmas.
Overwhelming victory is ours.
*
Grant was worried. He never should have done it. He was risking everything. If it went badly, he’d lose her forever.
Please don’t let that happen.
As he drove to the airport on Christmas Eve morning, all he could do was pray that God would work everything out and that Dahlia would forgive him.
Behind him, the twins chattered gaily. At the airport, they asked questions. He shushed them, promising to explain later. Then the plane pulled in and it was too late to second-guess his actions.
“Hi, I’m Grant,” he greeted them inside the tiny airport.
“Good to meet you.” Dahlia’s father, a tall thin man, held out his hand. His grip was firm. “Where’s my daughter?”
“She still—uh, doesn’t know you’re here,” Grant explained.
“I expect she’s still angry,” her mother said. “We hurt her badly, I’m afraid.”
At least they regretted what the past had done to Dahlia, Grant thought, liking the pair but still nervous about their reunion with their daughter. Dahlia’s parents gushed over the twins. He drove the couple to the hotel where he told them his plan and their part in it before he took the twins home later to prepare for the Christmas Eve service.
“Daddy, will Dally be happy her mommy and daddy are here?” Glory’s forehead furrowed in concern.
“I hope so.” Grant prayed fervently that “Dally” would soon be very happy.
*
Dahlia ached to talk to Grant, but he hadn’t answered her messages. In the flurry of last-minute shoppers, Dalia wondered if her hesitation with Grant had cost her everything.
Heart aching, Dahlia reminded herself that God had everything under control. She kept a smile on her face, wishing everyone a merry Christmas. Around three o’clock, the last customer left. She was closing up when Arlen walked in.
“Arlen! I thought you’d gone home. When will that be?” she asked.
“New Year’s. My mom’s here for Christmas.”
“That’s nice.” Dahlia frowned. Arlen seemed oddly uncomfortable, and wouldn’t quite look at her. “Is anything wrong?”
“Kind of.” He pulled a package from behind his back. “I really want to see the track again before I go, just to have a memory to keep. It got be pretty important, you know. My run-in with that polar bear really got me thinking about the future. I’m sorry it’s ruined ’cause it would have been cool, but I was wondering—”
“Of course I’ll give you a ride out there though I don’t know if we’ll see much. The days are so short now.” She finished closing up and followed him to the front door. The streets of Churchill were nearly deserted. “I guess everyone has finally finished their shopping,” she said with a smile. “I’ve never seen the town look so deserted.”
Arlen was silent during the drive but seemed to come alive when she pulled through the fence gates he opened.
“We won’t be able to stay long,” Dahlia warned. “You guys are singing in the Christmas Eve service tonight and I know you—” The rest of her words dropped away as she turned into the track site and saw the number of cars parked there.
“Come on,” Arlen said. “Let’s go see what’s happening.” A funny grin creased his stern face. “Look.”
Dahlia followed the direction in which he pointed. The last rays of sunlight highlighted a
figure coming toward her. Grant. She’d know that stride anywhere. Her heart swelled with love and then pain. Her fingers tightened around the steering wheel as she fought the urge to put the truck in gear and leave.
Hadn’t she promised God she was trusting him?
Arlen climbed out of the truck, and suddenly Grant was there, opening her door, smiling that gorgeous smile. He held out a hand to help her out of the truck. His fingers tightened around hers. And now she recognized the light in his eyes. Love. For her.
“I have a surprise,” he whispered.
She gulped then slid her hand in his and stepped down.
“Your parents are here. Everyone is.” He turned her to face them. Her parents stood in front of the group, and to Dahlia’s astonishment they began to clap. Everyone did. “They’re here to honor you.”
“Me?” She frowned at him. “Why?”
“Because you’re Churchill’s citizen of the year, a designation given to the person whose efforts have contributed greatly to the community and its spirit.”
“But…” she whispered, trying to understand.
Grant drew her forward, helping her onto the track. The spot where it had heaved had been cleared.
“Grant asked us to come and celebrate your achievement.” Her father stepped forward. “We’re grateful to him for inviting us to celebrate your honor, Dahlia.”
“But the track isn’t finished,” she sputtered in confusion. “We—I ran out of money.”
“In a community like this where the spirit of caring is so strong, money is the least of your worries,” her father said. “This track is work to be proud of, Dahlia. It’s a goal your mother and I would like to share in, if you’ll allow us.”
“How?” Dahlia asked, not quite able to grasp all that was happening.
“We’d like to make a donation that will see the completion of your track,” her father explained. “If you agree, a paving company will arrive in the spring and lay as much new track as necessary for your go-karts. We’re making this donation as a tribute to you, Dahlia, and to Lives Under Construction, because we love you and support you.”
The tenderness in his voice stunned her.