They’d walked down that dock toward the lights of the town countless times, bumping shoulders as the dark signaled it was time to go home. Now, with Nick’s fingers threaded through Chelsea’s, it was more like home was walking right next to him.
About Laurie Tomlinson
Laurie Tomlinson believes that God’s love is unfailing, anything can be accomplished with a good to-do list, and that life should be celebrated with cupcakes and extra sprinkles. When she’s not writing kissing books, she runs a small business that offers creative support for storytellers, swoons over a soccer-playing engineer, and enjoys adventuring with their two small children.
You can connect with Laurie on her website, Facebook page, and Instagram.
If you liked this story, don’t miss Laurie Tomlinson’s contemporary romance novel, With No Reservations, releasing in May 2017 from Harlequin Heartwarming:
With No Reservations - What could well-known and wealthy Graham Cooper Jr. have in common with a blogger like Sloane Bradley, a woman with secrets she’s kept firmly out of the public eye? That is, besides a love of food. Sloane still can’t believe Cooper’s the chef at the restaurant she’s been assigned to promote. But she’s boiling to prove to him that her “little blog” can put his place on the map. She can also fall head over heels for the guy, who has secrets of his own, it turns out…except for one thing. She can’t get past the post-traumatic stress disorder that keeps her walled up in her home studio.
A Time to Laugh
Marion Ueckermann
For thirty years, Brian and Elizabeth Dunham have served on the mission field. Unable to have children of their own, they’ve been a father and mother to countless orphans in six African countries. When an unexpected beach-house inheritance and a lung disease diagnosis coincide, they realize that perhaps God is telling them it’s time to retire.
At sixty, Elizabeth is past childbearing age. She’d long ago given up wondering whether this would be the month she would conceive. But when her best friend and neighbor jokes that Elizabeth’s sudden fatigue and nausea are symptoms of pregnancy, Elizabeth finds herself walking that familiar and unwanted road again, wondering if God is pulling an Abraham and Sarah on her and Brian.
The mere notion has questions flooding Elizabeth’s mind. If she were miraculously pregnant, would they have the stamina to raise a child in their golden years? Especially with Brian’s health issues. And the child? Would it be healthy, or would it go through life struggling with some kind of disability? What of her own health? Could she survive giving birth?
Will what Brian and Elizabeth have dreamed of their entire married life be an old-age blessing or a curse?
Dear Reader,
Are you waiting for a miracle? Do you think God has forgotten your prayers? Forgotten you? That He doesn’t hear or care? It is my prayer as you read A Time to Laugh, that your faith and hope will be restored, renewed, and refreshed, and that you will be reminded about what an awesome God He is—a God who cares, a God who is faithful, and a God who loves you so much, He’d die for you. In fact, He did. I urge you to never give up praying, and never give up believing, no matter how impossible or how dark or how bleak your situation looks, because God is waiting on the other side to surprise you with His goodness. All you have to do is trust. Unconditionally. But not only is He waiting, the Omnipresent God is also walking through your situation with you, carrying you. He is in your past, He is in your present, and He is in your future—all at the same time. May you be able to look back one day and laugh, because the God who knows what’s best for each and every one of us—even when we think He doesn’t—has worked all things for good.
Be blessed.
Marion
DEDICATION
To Ryan and Kyle ~
You bring me joy and laughter, every day!
I am so blessed to call you my sons.
GLOSSARY
Bilharzia: Schistosomiasis or snail fever, a disease caused by parasitic flatworms called schistosomes
Flake: Flake is a brand of chocolate bar manufactured by Cadbury, consisting of thinly folded milk chocolate
Flapjack: A pancake or griddlecake
Mollusc: A large phylum of invertebrate animals, many of which have shells, eg. Oysters
Natter: A conversation; chat
Sans: Without
Serviette: A table napkin [Chiefly British]
Snogging: To kiss and cuddle [British informal]
Tuck into something: To eat food with enthusiasm because you like it or because you are hungry [British informal]
White horses: A white-topped wave; whitecap
“God has brought me laughter,
and everyone who hears about this will laugh with me.”
~ Genesis 21:6
Chapter 1
Arms still extended on the Vortex Spin Bike’s handles, Elizabeth Dunham sat back down on the narrow seat. She leaned forward and rested her sweaty, silvery head on the bar between her arms. She stopped pedaling, and the flywheel soon came to rest. The slow warmup to the voice of Robbie Williams and the old classic “Mack the Knife” had been easy and fun, but the upbeat tempo of “Radar Love” that followed quickly sapped her energy.
The day after Elizabeth’s sixtieth birthday, her newfound friend and neighbor, JoAnn Stanson, had signed her up for this Over Sixties spinning class and dragged her along to classes ever since. Twice a week.
“You need something to replace the activity of running that orphanage and looking after all those African children,” JoAnn had said.
And before Elizabeth knew what was happening, she was sweating over a bicycle going nowhere, legs on fire and her chest about to explode.
She probably shouldn’t have come today. For days now she’d been tired, and found all sorts of opportunities to catch forty winks when she could. Or should that be sixty winks? When her hubby, Brian, went to town to get building supplies; when Errol, JoAnn’s husband, stopped by to borrow a power tool and bend Brian’s ear for an hour; when Brian sweetly offered to make them lunch, or tea. Any time Brian wasn’t around, although somehow he always appeared when she sneaked a catnap. No wonder it was taking her so long to paint the outside of their seaside home while Brian worked on the interior finishes.
Her fingers brushed against the water bottle. She wrapped her hand around it and, sitting upright, took a long, satisfying drink.
The past few months had been hectic, with a capital H. Elizabeth had put her fatigue down to their move, the renovations, and now the final touches to their new home. But could it be? She’d always helped Brian with building projects, in six different African countries. And she’d moved countless times. Never, in all the years, had digging trenches, shoveling concrete, painting walls, or relocating fatigued her like now.
Perhaps the coastal humidity was to blame. They’d never lived remotely close to the sea. Although JoAnn said she and Brian hadn’t felt humidity yet.
“Wait until summer comes. February’s a killer.”
Thankfully, they’d just missed it with their March relocation. But July’s winter still had some stinkers.
A disturbing thought crossed her mind. What if she’d contracted bilharzia before they left Burkina Faso? That could explain her tiredness. And her frequent need to run to the ladies for a tinkle. But surely she would have shown symptoms weeks ago?
Or maybe she should just face the facts—at sixty, she wasn’t getting any younger.
Irrespective, she should probably make a doctor’s appointment. She couldn’t go on like this. And it couldn’t hurt.
She ventured a sideways peek at JoAnn, still straddling that bike like a bucking bronco, determined to tame it. For sixty-two, the woman was in great shape, and had the energy of an ADHD child after a candy and cola-laden birthday party.
JoAnn shot her a look. “What’s wrong? Are you okay?” she mouthed, bouncing up and down as she pedaled. She’d tied her ash-blond bob into a short ponytail, but the long, side-swept bangs hadn’t made it to the elastic band keepin
g the hair away from her face. She puffed a breath upward to move the stray strands out of her eyes. Without a doubt, the hairstyle would return to its former glory by the time they went for their usual lunch. As would every inch of JoAnn’s now sweaty lycra and T-shirt-clad body.
Elizabeth shook her head and shrugged. Perhaps a cool shower would revive her. She motioned for JoAnn to continue her workout then slid off the bike and trudged toward the bathrooms. She’d journal about this when she got home. Perhaps she could find a devotion somewhere in this situation for her online blog. She could see the title already.
THE DAY I QUIT.
Quit? The word didn’t exist in Elizabeth’s vocabulary. In fact, if it wasn’t for Brian’s health, and the fact that he’d inherited their nice little cottage from his late aunt—although it had been a bit of a fix-me-upper—near Ballito Bay along the Dolphin Coast back home in South Africa, she and Brian would still have been working with the orphans and widows on the dusty streets of Ouagadougou. Twelve years in the capital of Burkina Faso in Northwest Africa, and they would gladly have served another twelve, but the Lord decided otherwise.
Elizabeth believed the timing of Brian’s diagnosis of silicosis, an incurable lung disease, at the same time as his inheritance, was God’s way of saying it was time to retire, spend their golden years taking long walks down that picturesque beach that merged with their front garden.
During their thirty years on the African mission field, they’d endured and overcome so many things. Terrorism. Disease. Wild animals. And with their new retirement plan they would overcome Brian’s illness, too. Thankfully he’d contracted the mildest form of the disease. But at least their healthier environment would buy Brian many more years than he would’ve had if they’d stayed.
She turned on the shower tap, stripped down, and stepped beneath the cool water, one thought on her mind. Never quit.
And for the past four months she had stuck to her motto—every single blood, sweat, and tears class.
Until today.
Seated at their usual table inside their favorite Ballito Bay restaurant, Elizabeth gazed out the open window across the ocean. White horses textured the sea that had turned from a smooth deep blue this morning when they’d left home to a choppy gray mass. A warm breeze blew in, and Elizabeth grabbed for the pensioners day menu as the wind flipped the printed page over from where it had lain on top of the brown leather-bound menu beside her. She caught the paper before it could escape to another table and tucked it under the bound menu. That should keep it in place.
Their waiter hurried over. Elizabeth hadn’t seen him before. He must be new.
“Should I close the window for you ladies?”
“Not unless the breeze is bothering anyone else.” JoAnn chortled. “We’re at the age now where we welcome nature’s fan.”
Red crept up the young man’s neck. He likely only had this job to pay for his studies. Or feed his weekend surfing addiction like so many young people in this small coastal town. But his lack of a tan or developed muscles indicated he was likely a hardworking student.
He cleared his throat and emitted a nervous laugh as he pulled his notepad and pen from the black half-apron that hung down from his waist. “Are you ready to order?”
Elizabeth shook her head. Her gaze flitted to his name badge. “Could you give us a few minutes, please, Claude? In the meantime, two Ceylon teas with cold milk would be wonderful.” Perhaps a nice cup of sweetened tea would up her flagging energy levels.
With a nod he pivoted.
“JoAnn!” Elizabeth narrowed her eyes, but found it impossible to wipe the smile from her face.
“What?” She batted her eyelids, acting all innocent.
“You embarrassed the poor lad.”
“Pfft. We’re not the only old ladies to frequent this place. He probably gets comments like that all the time. Maybe worse.” She lifted the maple syrup bottle from the condiments basket in the center of the table and squeezed a drop onto her fingertip. Then she popped her finger into her mouth and closed her eyes. “Mmm. Wish it was breakfast time, instead of lunch time. What I wouldn’t give for a stack of flapjacks drizzled with this stuff, and a few strips of bacon at the side.” She focused on Elizabeth and grinned. “At least I didn’t proposition him.”
“JoAnn!” Heat flushed Elizabeth’s cheeks, and she glanced around. Everyone at the tables closest to them were engrossed in their conversations. Thankfully, nobody seemed to have heard JoAnn’s comment.
She hoped.
God had given her a tough assignment when he gave her JoAnn Stanson. For all her outward elegance, she had a naughty mind and mouth. A diamond in the rough. But Elizabeth could see why God had chosen her to be another apple of his eye. She’d never stop being JoAnn’s friend or trying to win her for the Lord, even if it meant being dragged to spinning classes twice a week, followed by lunch on Wednesdays and grocery shopping on Fridays. Besides, she really enjoyed her company. Retirement would never be boring as long as JoAnn lived nearby.
Claude soon returned bearing a large teapot, two cups and saucers, and two small jugs of milk.
And they still hadn’t looked at the menu.
“Thank you, Claude,” Elizabeth said. “I’m sorry, but would you mind terribly to give us another ten minutes?”
“No problem. Whenever you’re ready.” He smiled then hurried to serve the next geriatric couple who’d shuffled through the restaurant doors. Wouldn’t be long before she and Brian looked like that…if they didn’t already.
Her gaze flitted around the room. Impossible not to notice the excess of gray patrons. One could tell it was Wednesday.
After filling the cups a quarter of the way with milk, Elizabeth lifted the teapot and poured their tea. She sprinkled two teaspoons of sugar into her cup and stirred aimlessly.
“And that? You can’t abide sugar in your tea.” JoAnn lifted her cup. Taking a sip, she peered at Elizabeth over the porcelain rim, pretentious pinky extended.
“I need the energy.”
JoAnn set her cup down on the saucer. “Speaking of energy—what really happened at the gym today? Getting old? Can’t keep up?” She grinned and popped the bite-sized complimentary shortbread biscuit into her mouth, her eyes dancing.
“I already told you. I was hot. I needed a shower.” She gulped a mouthful of tea, mostly to hide behind the cup. She didn’t need JoAnn worrying about her. Besides, she wasn’t lying. She had been hot, too.
JoAnn’s raised eyebrow told Elizabeth her friend wasn’t buying her story. And why should she? She had spun her way through far hotter days.
She set her cup down and sighed. “I’ve been so tired for days now. I–I couldn’t continue this morning.”
“Any other symptoms?”
“Besides the fatigue…frequent urination, tender breasts…”
“Could you have contracted something before you left the mission station?”
“I guess anything is possible.” Her stomach groaned and she slid the pensioners’ menu out from where she’d trapped it. “We should probably order lunch.” She was starving. And she couldn’t even blame the workout.
“What’s on the offering for today?” JoAnn asked, her finger easing down the top edge of the paper in Elizabeth’s hand.
Elizabeth lifted the menu higher, closer to her face. She should take her glasses out of her handbag. “We have a choice between any flavor of pizza, or chicken schnitzel with mashed potatoes or chips and two hot vegetables, or pasta Alfredo, or…” she smoothed her tongue over her lips, “braised liver and onions with the same sides as the schnitzel.”
The thought of liver suddenly turned her stomach, and bile rose to her throat. She swallowed hard. Strange. She usually had a love affair with liver and onions.
Not today, it seemed.
JoAnn relaxed back into her chair. “I’ll have a large Hawaiian pizza. That way I get to take half home for Errol, and I don’t need to cook tonight. Win-win.”
None of the
choices appealed to Elizabeth, the thought of each one leaving that same bitter taste in her mouth as the liver and onions. She set the paper menu down, swapping it for the heavy brown leather extended version for those not seeking a more affordable meal. She flipped the cover open, and her eyes scanned the contents of the first page.
She’d barely opened the menu when she shut it again.
JoAnn widened her eyes. “That was fast. Nothing you like? Or did the prices scare you off?”
“The prices are fine, JoAnn. Not that bad, really.” Could be worse, she guessed.
“Have you decided what you’re eating? Should I call Claude over, terrorize the boy a little more?”
Elizabeth shook her head. “You’re too much, you know that? Leave the poor lad alone.”
“Oh, I hope so.”
“You hope what?”
JoAnn slid another finger loaded with syrup into her mouth. “I hope I’m too much. I’d hate to ever be dull and boring.”
A grin stretched Elizabeth’s mouth wide. “Ha. That you will never be, dear friend.”
“So, what are you having for lunch?”
“Oysters!” Elizabeth announced out loud, like she’d just discovered something new and amazing for the chef to offer his silver-haired Wednesday patrons.
“Oysters? Are you sure?”
Elizabeth nodded. “Don’t want to be dull and boring.”
JoAnn beckoned to Claude with a finger before turning back to Elizabeth. “Have you eaten them before?”
“No. But I suddenly have a craving to taste them.”
JoAnn’s mouth pinched, making lines in her pale pink lipstick, before a laugh gushed forth and washed away the small wrinkles from moments before. Her lips smoothed with the action. “You do know they taste like salty slime?”
Elizabeth merely shrugged. Who cared? She was in the mood for molluscs.
In fact, she was more than in the mood for them. She was craving them.
“Maybe I’ll find a pearl inside one.”
“Hardly likely, Elizabeth. Oysters are served open. If by some great miracle there was one inside an oyster, it wouldn’t make it out of the kitchen.”
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