Faithfully Yours Read online

  “Oh, Roddy. Such a lovely boy. Comes to see me, you know.” Charity babbled away, her eagle eye noticing just when Mrs. Green nodded off. “Just loves my cookies, he does.” She kept up the monotonous babble until she was sure the other woman was asleep. Then, tiptoeing out of the living room, she gently closed the door to the kitchen and opened her purse.

  “Such a wonderful thing, these cell phones,” she murmured, punching in a number on the keypad with little difficulty. “My Melanie always did think of the most wonderful Mother’s Day gifts. Of course, it probably comes from working in the nursing home. So practical.” She spared a thought for Faith’s possible admittance into that home and winced as the woman’s voice came on the line.

  “Hello, Faith? This is Charity. Charity Flowerday. Yes, dear, that’s the one. Now listen carefully. I have a job for you.”

  Three hours later Gillian found all three of the women sitting around the Green kitchen table enjoying a cup of coffee.

  “But where’s Mrs. Green?” she asked curiously, shushing when Hope told her to. “I need to talk to her about Roddy’s costume for the Christmas play,” she whispered.

  “Don’t you be bothering that sickly woman with the likes of that,” Charity muttered, folding the last basket of laundry Faith had lugged in from her car. “She’s worn to a frazzle with those two.”

  “Those two” sat on a blanket on the gleaming floor, Faith between them, munching on a cookie.

  “I think you should check those squares,” Charity murmured just loudly enough for Faith to hear. The older woman got to her feet and looked into the oven. “They look lovely, Faith, dear.”

  “Everything looks real nice,” Roddy murmured, staring around his home with interest. His finger slipped over the bright red vinyl on the kitchen chairs. “Where’d these come from?”

  “Why, Roddy Green,” Charity pretended surprise. “These are your very own kitchen chairs. I just washed them and used a bit of sealing glue on them.”

  Roddy didn’t look convinced, especially when he saw the bit of leftover vinyl sitting on the counter, but his attention was caught by the wonderful spicy odor wafting through the house. He sniffed several times and then licked his lips.

  “Gingerbread,” he cried, causing everyone to hiss “Shhhhh”.

  “Roddy, I think the twins want to play outside now. I brought over a little sleigh for you to use. I think they’ll both fit into it.” Hope watched in admiration as the seven-year-old slid the two toddlers into their snowsuits without difficulty. “My, you are good at that,” she said.

  Flushed at the kind words, but happily chewing on his own cookie, Roddy ushered the twins out the door. With a shriek of laughter they plunged face-first into the snowbank and rolled in it excitedly.

  As soon as the children had left, Charity stood to her feet.

  “Now, ladies, this woman needs help. Her husband is off looking for work in the city, and she’s been left alone with hardly any money and three young ‘uns, to boot. We’ve done all the cooking and cleaning we can for now, but she’s got to get to a doctor or these children will be orphans.”

  “I’m not that sick,” a weak voice from the doorway murmured. “I can still care for my family.”

  “Of course you can,” Charity murmured. “But first, Hope here is going to take you down to see Doctor Dan to get something for that cough. Don’t worry—” she held up one hand, forestalling the protests they all knew were coming “—we’ll watch the children till you get back.”

  It took a round of introductions and a few moments of heavy-duty persuasion, but finally Anita, as she had told them to call her, pulled on her worn wool coat and headed for the door. Her face brightened considerably when her hand found the loose change in her pocket. She’d forgotten all about it, she murmured. Maybe she could afford some medicine, after all.

  Once they’d left, Charity turned to Gillian.

  “That girl needs a warm winter coat—maybe nothing fancy, but something warm. And some gloves and boots. Can you handle that?”

  Gillian nodded, a little stunned by the overwhelming need of Roddy’s family. “Yes, I think so. I have several bags of clothes in my room that I was going to give away. She’s more than welcome. I’ll go get them right now.” She scurried out of the kitchen.

  “Faith, you get on the phone to Jeremy,” Charity said. “I want him to look at this furnace. Something’s not working right. This house is too cold for those young children.” She pulled a pan of golden Santas and stars and Christmas trees a little nearer and began decorating each with colored icing. “Then, of course, we’ve got to get some groceries here. I couldn’t haul over near enough.”

  “Arthur would help,” Faith squealed happily. “He’d bring over whatever you needed.”

  “Of course,” Charity said, beaming. “While you talk to your nephew, I’ll make a list.”

  Gillian heard the two of them chuckling merrily as she tugged on her boots and buttoned up her jacket. The meager confines of Roddy’s home had shocked her. They didn’t even have the bare necessities in this house. And that coat of Anita’s!

  As she pulled on her warm leather gloves, she thought again about those red, worn fingers that Anita had tried to hide in her tattered gloves. And a picture of the lovely new navy coat she’d just purchased for herself floated guiltily through her mind.

  She didn’t need it, Gillian reflected. Not really. Her white melton was barely two years old, and there wasn’t a mark on it since she’d had it cleaned. She thought of the matching red leather gloves and the red woolen scarf she’d purchased especially to go with the new coat. Anita had the kind of blond fairness that would suit the dark color, she thought. And the red would give her pale skin some color.

  When you do it unto the least of my brothers, you do it unto me.

  It was a verse she had read in her private Bible study that very morning. Had God meant her to help out Anita with her new coat? Surely her white one would do just as well?

  A little voice whispered inside her head as she plodded through the snow-clogged streets, Would you have Jesus wear the white or the navy coat?

  She scurried onward, knowing what she had to do. It wasn’t that much of a sacrifice, Gillian told herself, snuggling against the fur collar of her jacket. She would still be dry and warm in her other coat. She jumped as a car horn sounded behind her.

  “Where are you going?” Jeremy asked, his dark head catching snowflakes as he leaned out the window. “I thought everyone was at the Green house.”

  Gillian stepped over the snowbank and slipped into the seat beside him. “They are,” she told him, rubbing her hands in the warm air coming from the heater. “I’m on my way to Hope’s to pick up a few things for Anita, that’s Mrs. Green, while she sees the doctor. Apparently that’s why Roddy’s been so unkempt.” In a few short sentences, she relayed the whole sad story. “Faith was trying to reach you when I left. Something about checking the furnace.”

  “I don’t know anything about furnaces,” he told her grimly. “Why don’t they just get a repairman? And if it’s dangerous, I certainly don’t want my aunt involved!” He glared at her as if the whole situation were her fault.

  “Look,” she said, exasperated by his attitude. “This is a family that needs help. Christmas is supposed to be a time for giving. Can’t you spare a few moments to give a little to someone else for a change?”

  Jeremy swallowed his retort as he noticed the flash of ire in her sparkling green eyes. All right, he had sounded uncharitable. But blast it, anyway, it had been a day to forget, and he had no wish to add anything else.

  “Okay. We’ll go to Hope’s and you can get what you need,” he said acquiescing. “Then I’ll drive you back and take a look at this monstrosity. But I’m warning you, I don’t know anything about furnaces or repairing them. Absolutely nothing.”

  Jeremy watched as she jumped out of the car once they reached her aunt’s. She moved like lightning, he decided. No wasted effort; no preten
se. Just get the job done. He liked that about her. He followed her inside.

  But as she slipped off her jacket and bent over to unlace her boots, Jeremy decided there were certainly other assets about his pretend fiancée that he had overlooked. Her hair, for one thing. It burst out of her cap like fairy dust suddenly set free. He mocked his poetic thoughts even as he watched the light sparkle off the soft curls that stood out around her head from the static electricity.

  “There,” she said, straightening as she tugged her royal blue sweater over her hips. She waved him in. “I’m going to be a few minutes so make yourself at home.”

  And sure enough, a few moments later she was trying to manhandle a huge black garbage bag down the stairs.

  “Here,” he offered, meeting her halfway and taking the weight in his arms easily. Jeremy set it down in the middle of the living room and straightened to find her directly in front of him, mere inches away. His breath caught in his throat at her luminous beauty, and he reached out to touch one glistening curl that had strayed across her eyes.

  Gillian stood perfectly still, allowing him to move the strand as she stared back at him. Her eyes were wide-open, innocent. Her lips rosy and shiny as she gently swiped her tongue across them.

  It happened so quickly that Jeremy decided later he couldn’t have stopped himself even if he’d wanted to. His hand curved around her chin as he leaned forward and pressed his lips against her full mouth. He moved his mouth against her gossamer-soft one and felt Gillian’s shiver of response.

  She didn’t move away. She didn’t even open her eyes to chastise him. Instead, her head tilted just a little to allow him greater access. Jeremy took that as a yes and wrapped his other arm around her slim waist as he deepened the kiss. She stiffened for just a second, and then her arms were draped around his shoulders and, hallelujah, she was kissing him back.

  When Jeremy finally pulled back he found Gillian’s clear, wide gaze fixed on him.

  “Why did you do that?” she murmured, her fingers pressing against the lapel of his jacket.

  “Because you’re very beautiful and I wanted to.” He smiled, feeling more lighthearted than he had in years. “Didn’t you want me to?”

  As Jeremy stood silent, Gillian blushed a deep, startling rose. She lowered her gaze, long golden lashes hiding her eyes from him.

  “Actually, I did,” she whispered in a voice so soft he barely heard it.

  “Good,” he muttered, tugging her against him once more. “Because I’m going to do it again.”

  Gillian’s strong arms slipped around his neck as she pulled his head a little nearer. “Good,” she echoed breathlessly.

  Less tentative, more demanding on Jeremy’s part, this kiss asked more questions, which he noticed she willingly answered. It could have gone on and on, but the telephone rang, abruptly breaking their silent communication.

  Jeremy let his arms fall away and stepped back as she moved toward the phone. His eyes intently followed her, noting the swift rise of that wonderful color to her cheeks and the way her eyes glanced at him and then skittered away when she saw him watching her. Jeremy smiled to himself and sank onto the nearby sofa.

  Gillian wasn’t any less affected by this new intimacy than he was. Good, because he fully intended that there would be more. He had this ridiculous insatiable craving to touch those lips once more; to trace the planes of her beautiful face and nibble on her earlobe. It was crazy. It was wonderful.

  It wasn’t like him at all.

  “That was Hope.” Gillian stood by the phone, twiddling the cord between her fingers. “She wants us to bring some of her raspberry jam over.” Not once did she look at him.

  Jeremy stood and walked over beside her rigid form. When he placed his hand on her shoulder, Gillian lifted wide, startled eyes to stare at him.

  “I’ll say I’m sorry, if you want,” he told her, allowing the smile to tug at the corners of his mouth. “But I’d be lying. I’m not sorry I kissed you.” He grinned. “And sometime, at a more convenient time, I fully intend to do it again.”

  His heart sank as Gillian just stared at him, as wide-eyed as a doe. Then, just when he was sure all hope was gone, her eyes began to glow with that inner light.

  “And I fully intend to kiss you back,” she told him, smiling. “But right now we’ve got to get back to the Greens’.” And leaning over, she teetered on her tiptoes as her lips grazed his cheek. “Later.”

  It was a promise, Jeremy decided. One that he’d hold her to, hopefully sooner.

  “What is all this stuff?” With a grunt of relief, Jeremy stuffed the last bag into his back seat and tilted the driver’s seat back in its usual position. “We should have called a mover.”

  “Mostly it’s clothes I bought to get you off my back,” Gillian told him pertly. “You did spend the first few weeks of September telling me how inappropriately I dressed, remember? I blew a big chunk of my wages buying black, navy and neutral-colored clothes.”

  He snorted. “I never said any such thing. I merely suggested—”

  Gillian held up one hand. “You know what…” she told him, frowning fiercely, “don’t go there. We’ll only end up arguing some more, and I think we’ve gotten beyond that these past months.”

  He nodded, edging closer to her.

  “Far beyond that,” he agreed, slipping one arm around her waist.

  He watched, not totally amused, as Gillian ducked away from him and climbed into the car, eyes brimming with laughter.

  “We have work to do. Remember? The Greens,” she chided, watching him frown.

  Jeremy shifted gears easily and moved the car slowly away from the curb, enjoying the rub of her shoulder against his in the small confines of the sports car. Gillian sat with a huge box on her lap.

  He kept careful watch as she handed it to Mrs. Green and noted the glow on her lovely face.

  “Oh, but it looks new,” Anita protested, lifting the expensive wool coat from the tissue.

  “It is.” Gillian said.

  “But you can’t give away your new coat,” the woman protested folding it back into the box with a sigh of regret.

  “Well, if you don’t want it, I guess I’ll have to find someone else,” Gillian told her, smiling. “I certainly can’t wear it. There’s something about the fabric that bothers my skin, must be allergies. I break out in a rash,” she told them.

  Of conscience, Jeremy felt like adding, for he had seen her remove the tags from the coat and gloves at Hope’s and knew full well she could have returned both to the exclusive shop she’d gotten them from. He’d also seen her press her cheek against the soft cashmere and sniff the new leather.

  But now, as he watched her give away the lovely clothes and saw the smile of joy cross her face when Anita tried them on, he felt a pang of something deep inside.

  Yes, Gillian Langford was a sight to behold. She might wear bright, colorful clothes, and she certainly was hot-headed. And no one could argue that wherever she went, heads didn’t turn to notice the stunning auburn hair. But today he had seen something completely different; something that had him realizing he really knew very little about the beautiful woman everyone thought he would marry.

  Today he had seen deep inside, to the generosity and kind spirit that was just as bright and just as glorious as her outward beauty. And suddenly he wanted her to turn that loving, caring smile she was bestowing on those children on him. He wanted to be the recipient of one of those dazzling grins and return one of her spontaneous hugs.

  So when she sat down next to him at the dinner table with the aunts, Arthur Johnson, Anita and her children gathered around to say grace over the savory stew and fresh biscuits, Jeremy reached under the crisp, white tablecloth and clasped her hand in his. And when she glanced at him in startled surprise, he bent his head near hers, eyes twinkling, and whispered for her ears only, “After all, we are engaged! Remember?”

  Chapter Eight

  “All right, children!” Gillian tried to keep t
he Christmas spirit in her voice, but it was difficult to do when the surrounding din had nearly reached ten on the Richter scale. “Choir, I want you to try that last number once more.”

  Obediently, the kindergarten and first-graders lined up, albeit helter-skelter. She looked around for her pianist, but Jeremy was busy trying to get the members of the cast into costume and ready to go on stage. Puffing her bangs out of her eyes in resignation, Gillian straightened the last little girl into line and then sat down at the piano herself. Although she had never even seen this music before, she decided to give it her best shot. Someone had to!

  “All right, children, here we go. One, two, three, four. ‘City side…’” And indeed, off they went. Off-key, off tempo and in no particular order.

  Half an hour later Gillian sank onto the staff-room sofa, thrust her feet up onto a nearby chair and blissfully sipped at her coffee. She needed this. It had been a Friday to end all Fridays.

  Around the room the other teachers were packing up to go home for the weekend, but Gillian ignored them as she closed her eyes and dreamed of Christmas holidays; of mornings spent lounging lazily in bed; quiet solemn afternoons of uninterrupted reading. They opened in startled awareness, when she felt the cool press of masculine lips against hers.

  “Jeremy,” she gasped, straightening in such a rush, some of the cooled coffee slopped over the mug and onto her white corduroy pants. “You can’t do that in public!”

  “It isn’t public,” he told her, grinning as he waved a hand around the empty staff room. “Everyone has gone home. Long, long ago.”

  “Oh.” She yawned. “I’m dead.”

  “It has been a trying week,” he admitted, lifting the mug from her hands and sipping from it. For some reason, the gesture sent tingles of awareness through Gillian’s body that heightened when he sank down beside her and placed his arm along the sofa back behind her.

  “By the way,” he told her, playing with a curl escaped from her neat chignon. “That last song you were doing with the choir?”