Love Finds a Home
Page 21
I . . . I thought he felt that way, too. I . . . I even thought that he might care. Well, he maybe did . . . in a way. At least he said he did . . . but he also said that because of . . . the circumstances . . . whatever he saw them to be . . . that we . . . he wouldn’t be seeing me again.”
Luke nodded.
“So I came on home . . . as I had planned. Though I . . . I knew that I’d stay . . . if . . . if he asked me to. But he didn’t, and . . . I didn’t expect to ever see him again . . . and then quite unexpectedly he . . . he . . .”
But Belinda could not go on. She turned her back again as the tears began to flow freely.
“Did you know that Drew thought you intended to stay in Boston to administrate the home you had established?” Luke asked.
Belinda shook her head, her back still to her brother.
“Did you know that it was always his intention to return here to set up practice?”
“No,” she said after a long pause.
“Did you know that he very nearly laid aside his lifelong dream of helping people in his own hometown so he might be free to stay in Boston and marry you?”
Belinda’s shoulders shook. “No.”
“Did you know that he felt that to ask you to marry him would be denying you of all the good things you had learned to appreciate?”
“No,” sobbed Belinda.
Luke moved across the room to place his hands on Belinda’s trembling shoulders. “What in the world did you two talk about all that time, anyway?” he asked in a teasing tone.
“Oh, Luke,” sobbed Belinda, and she turned to Luke’s arms and lowered her head to his shoulder.
He held her, patting her back as she wept.
“You know what I would suggest?” he said softly when the sobs had subsided. Belinda shook her head.
“I would suggest that you start over. And this time really talk.”
“Oh, Luke,” cried Belinda. “I think it’s too late.”
“Then what’s he doing here waiting right outside the door?” Luke asked with a chuckle.
“He . . . he’s here?” Belinda was shocked.
“He’s here. And he’ll be knocking that door down if I don’t soon let him in.”
“Oh my!” cried Belinda, her hand going first to her face and then to her hair. “I must look one awful sight.”
“I wouldn’t expect him to notice,” Luke replied gently, then gave her one more squeeze before he released her and opened the door for Drew.
“Belinda?” Drew entered the room hesitantly. “May I come in?”
Belinda silently nodded.
“I . . . I’ve really messed everything up, haven’t I?” he said with such a tremor in his voice that Belinda wanted to reach out to him, but she stood rooted to the spot.
“I thought you felt your work was in Boston . . . with the elderly. . . .”
Belinda nodded again in understanding.
“I knew . . . I’ve always felt that I was to come back here,” he went on.
Belinda managed a shaky little laugh. “Silly, wasn’t it? We both thought we knew what the other was thinking when . . .”
But Drew had closed the distance between them. He reached his hand to her face and tipped her chin upward. “Is it too late . . . to start again?” he asked softly.
Belinda couldn’t shake her head. He was holding her against him. She knew she’d never squeeze a word past her tight throat. She only looked at him and then she shyly put her hands on his shoulders.
“I love you,” whispered Drew. “I always have. Would . . . will you marry me?”
Belinda looked for a long time at the man she loved. She wanted to answer. She even tried to say the word, but still she was unable to speak. Her arms slipped around his neck and he must have taken that as affirmation, for Belinda found herself being tenderly kissed.
Belinda judged it to be the most glorious spring she had ever experienced, she told Drew as they sat rocking on her parents’ front porch. Each day seemed brighter, cleaner, more perfect than the last. Marty just smiled at both of them. She had watched love bloom before, she told the couple as she refilled their glasses of iced tea.
Drew found a small house on the edge of town and made arrangements to rent it. Belinda spent hours dreaming of how she would fix this and paint that, and Drew proved to be handy with minor repairs.
“It’s going to be just perfect,” Belinda enthused. “I can hardly wait to move in.”
Drew smiled. The place certainly wasn’t perfect, he realized, especially after what Belinda had been used to in Boston. But Drew no longer felt worried about asking her to share his dreams. Love was too evident on her face, and he knew instinctively that they would be happy together.
One day as Belinda was tending her special potted plant, she decided she couldn’t wait until they actually occupied the small cottage. Her rose needed planting. When the sun came up in the springtime sky, spilling its warm promises upon the earth, Belinda carefully lifted her potted rose and headed for the small cottage.
Gently she eased the small bush from its confining container and placed it tenderly, securely into the hole she had dug.
“Grow, little rose,” she whispered as she poured water into the hole and eased the dirt back in place. “I hope you will be happy here. As happy as I intend to be. You are to make our home beautiful on the outside—and I will try to make it beautiful on the inside.”
Belinda rose to her feet, studied her soiled hands, and smiled with inner joy.
“Oh, I hope you bloom,” she told the rose. “I hope you’ll bloom this year.” She was silent for a moment and then continued. “But if you don’t . . . I’ll wait. I feel prepared to wait now. I . . . I finally feel settled . . . ready for life.”
The wedding was set for August at the little church in the country. By then Drew’s law practice was becoming comfortably established. The small cottage was reasonably refurbished and furnished, and Belinda had busied herself with hanging curtains and scattering braided rugs. Though the little house was simple, Belinda was gloriously happy. It wouldn’t be long before she would be Mrs. Drew Simpson.
Mrs. Simpson and Sid came by train for the wedding. Drew gently chided his mother when he and Belinda met the train.
“When I asked you in Boston concerning Belinda, why didn’t you tell me she had already gone home?” he asked.
“I had me no idea what had happened between you two,” Mrs. Simpson admitted. “I felt that there was something strange going on when two very dear friends suddenly didn’t know each other’s plans.”
“So you told me that Belinda would need to speak for herself?”
Mrs. Simpson shrugged. “What else could I say? I had no intention of intruding on Belinda’s privacy.”
Drew put his arm around Belinda’s waist and pulled her close. “Well, I forgive you, Ma—now that things have worked out,” he laughed.
Belinda just smiled. Tomorrow was to be the happiest day of her life.
“Are you ready?” Clark asked his youngest daughter, and Belinda smiled her answer.
“It’s a shame,” said Clark seriously as he bent to kiss the top of her head.
“What’s a shame?” Belinda asked innocently.
“It’s a shame I have run out of daughters. Each bride jest gets prettier an’ prettier.”
“Oh, Pa,” Belinda laughed, but her cheeks were glowing.
“Happy?”
“I’ ve never been happier. I think I’m about to burst,” admitted Belinda.
“Strange,” mused Clark. “After all these years . . . you and Drew.”
“It’s not strange at all,” smiled Belinda dreamily. “I . . . I think that it’s just as God always meant it to be. He . . . He just had to wait for me to grow up.”
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