Faithfully Yours Read online

  She interrupted him. Again!

  “You always claim rationality when someone doesn’t agree with you,” Gillian charged angrily. “I am quite rational, thank you very much. And I’m also human enough to know that all people, but especially children, need love to nurture them through the hard knocks of life.” Her emerald eyes glared at him, flashes of light from the dashboard reflecting in pinpoint stabs. “Haven’t you ever done something just for the sheer pleasure of it?”

  “Actually, I—”

  She cut him off again. “Yes, you have,” she grinned, eyes sparkling now as her hands flew through the air emphasizing her point. “Tonight. On the snowmobile. You let go and really had fun. You raced that machine around Mr. Reid’s yard like a kid with a new toy.” She studied his burning cheeks, wondering at his reaction.

  “You’re thinking of buying one, aren’t you?” she crowed.

  “Well, what if I am?” Jeremy sputtered, angry at her easy perception of him. He’d made it a practice over the years to hide his emotions. How did this woman manage to read him so easily? “There’s nothing wrong with me owning a snowmobile, is there?” he challenged belligerently. “I am an adult—solvent, and in my right mind.”

  “I’m not so sure about that last part,” she said, laughing out loud at his dark look. “You did fall tonight. Maybe you hit your head.”

  “Now, just one minute,” Jeremy began. That was as far as he got.

  “I just want to know one thing,” Gillian asked pointedly.

  “What?”

  They were parked in front of her aunt’s house, and Jeremy could afford the time it took to study her jubilant face. It did not reassure him. He leaned back in his seat and gathered his composure about him like a cloak. “Well?”

  “When you were dashing around on that machine at the Reids’,” she began, unable to hide her pleasure at his discomfort.

  “I was not dashing,” Jeremy protested. To no avail.

  “When you were dashing around,” she repeated, grinning from ear to ear like a teasing Cheshire cat. “Did you think about the noise you were making? Noise that most likely bothered the neighbors or the Reids’ cattle?”

  The woman was watching him closely, and Jeremy strove to keep his face devoid of emotion, even though his mind was reeling with the possible consequences of his hasty actions.

  “Did you pause to consider the damage you might be doing to that crop of winter wheat that had sprouted under the snow?” Gillian had the nerve to laugh at his aghast look. “And, last of all, did you happen to think about the rest of us, standing around in the cold, waiting for you to finish your joyride?”

  “I, um, I didn’t realize…” Jeremy didn’t quite know what to say. It was ridiculous to think that a man in his position had behaved so childishly, without forethought for his actions.

  “The answer is no.” Gillian snorted in amusement. “And that was because you just let go, for once in your life, and enjoyed the moment” She licked her finger and stroked a number one in the air gleefully.

  “I was just—”

  “Being a kid,” she cheered. “I know. Wasn’t it great to let go of all the old shoulds and should nots and just have some fun?”

  Jeremy felt her fingers thread through his and squeeze gently as if she were trying to reassure him that such exploits were perfectly natural

  “That’s why kids are kids and parents are adults,” she told him, frowning slightly. “The kid has to have the freedom to try new things, yes. And the parent has to set up the boundaries, reasonable boundaries, to make sure that no one gets hurt. But no one has the right to take away the freedom of childhood.”

  Jeremy eyed her dubiously. Some of what she said made sense, there was no doubt. But there was still the matter of responsibility; he had no intention of abandoning his opinion on that!

  He was about to remind her of it when Hope’s front door flew open and the older woman scurried down the walk toward his car. She had no coat covering her thin shoulders. Instead she trailed it along behind, yanking on a soft knitted hat as she moved. Her face was pinched and white. Jeremy pressed the button to unroll Gillian’s window and called out a greeting.

  “Is anything the matter, Miss Langford?”

  “You have to go to Faith’s immediately,” Hope gasped, sliding adroitly into the seat behind Gillian’s. “Arthur just phoned. She’s fallen. Off the roof.”

  “The roof,” Jeremy gasped, slamming into first. “What in the world was she doing on the roof?”

  “I don’t know,” Hope whispered miserably. “Arthur just said he had found her lying in the snow.”

  “Oh, my God!” It was a prayer that Gillian silently endorsed as he drove the short distance to his aunt’s home. They found Arthur kneeling on the front lawn, cradling Faith’s head in his lap.

  “She’s alive,” he called out to them excitedly.

  “Of course I’m alive, you silly man,” Faith said, rising awkwardly to her feet. She was a bit shaky, but her hand was firmly enmeshed in Arthur’s, and her smile of adoration was for him alone.

  “Auntie Fay, what in the world were you doing on the roof?” Jeremy demanded, searching the tired, faded eyes. “You might have been killed!”

  “Oh, piffle,” the older woman protested, walking slowly across the lawn and up the steps to her front door. “I won’t be going for a long time yet, Jeremy. The Lord has too much for me to do.” She pushed open the door after brushing Arthur’s cheek with her cold lips. “Come along in, my dears,” she said merrily. “It’s so nice to have company. I’ll make tea.”

  “No, Auntie, you won’t.” Jeremy angrily brushed Arthur’s hand off his aunt’s shoulder and ushered her into the nearest easy chair. “I want you to sit down there until I check you over. You’ve had a nasty fall and you should rest” His hands moved carefully over her arms and legs, and finding no damage, he got to his feet and stood glaring down at her.

  “I’ll make her a hot drink,” Hope murmured, scurrying from the room.

  From the corner of his eyes, he could see Gillian sink down onto the sofa. He knew the feeling; he felt like his rubbery legs wouldn’t hold him for much longer, either. His frown deepened as Arthur seated himself near Faith and enfolded her hand in his, despite Jeremy’s scathing glance.

  “I still want to know what in the world you were doing on the roof,” her nephew demanded from his position across the room. It was the only seat left, and he had to take it. Fear and shock still raced through him at the thought of his beloved aunt lying helpless in the snow while he’d been out. Joyriding like a pubescent teenager!

  “Putting up the Christmas lights, of course, dear,” she told him placidly. “I do it every year. Blue ones, thousands of them. Of course, I don’t actually put them up.”

  Jeremy sighed in relief at that news and immediately sucked in his breath in dismay when she continued.

  “Actually I just take out the burned-out bulbs and put in new ones.” She smiled happily at him. “Next week I’ll put up the manger scene. You remember that. Your uncle made it years ago. It was the Christmas you came to visit us.”

  Immediately he was lost in the memory of that long-ago time when he’d flown across the Atlantic by himself so that he could spend Christmas with his own family. He’d been ten, he recalled, and they’d made him feel like he was their son. Uncle Donald had already started the crèche. By the time Jeremy arrived, there was only the rough-hewn manger to build and the donkeys to paint. He’d done it lovingly, with great care, because it mattered to Auntie Fay.

  “Here you go, dear. Drink this up now and you’ll feel better soon.” Hope handed mugs to everyone.

  “What is it?” Faith demanded, peering into the cup. “I won’t drink some silly herbal remedy, you know.”

  “It’s peppermint tea,” Hope told her, a smile playing around her thin lips. “Yours, not mine.”

  “Oh, good. I love peppermint tea.” Faith sipped daintily from the steaming cup, her eyes cloudy with
some far-off dream.

  “Does your head hurt?” Hope asked softly, searching the older woman’s face for some sign of injury.

  “Of course not,” Faith giggled. “I landed in the snowbank, silly. Just had the wind knocked out of me. It was actually rather fun. For a few moments I was flying, just like the birds.”

  “Do you finally see why she has to go into a home?” Jeremy hissed from his position behind Gillian He felt all the old anger and frustration at the situation rise up inside. Why did it have to be his aunt who was senile? Dear old Auntie Fay who wouldn’t hurt a flea?

  “No, I don’t!” Gillian scowled back at him. “She’s perfectly fine. Arthur was here and he looked after her. Nothing has changed.”

  “Everything has changed! She could have been killed.” His face whitened at the thought of life without Auntie Fay.

  “You could have been killed when you took that trail too fast tonight,” Gillian flung at him. Her eyes were like chips of jade. “You weren’t. Neither was she. Relax.” Her finger poked him painfully in the chest. “And you do those bulbs next time.”

  He couldn’t believe she would compare the two. One had no bearing on the other. “But don’t you see, if she had been properly supervised, Auntie Fay would never have even gone up the ladder, let alone fallen.”

  Gillian rolled her eyes. “And if you hadn’t gone snowmobiling, you wouldn’t have tipped into the snow. Life is full of risks. Would you rather have not taken the risk, and missed the enjoyment of the ride?”

  Jeremy felt all the old familiar frustrations he had always experienced with this woman rise up and clutch him around the neck. The thought of Auntie Fay lying there in the snow, dead or dying, sent his heart into his mouth.

  “I have to keep her safe,” he said huskily. “I can’t let something like this happen again. She can’t die. Not now.”

  “She’ll die in a nursing home,” Gillian whispered fiercely. “Even if you keep her body preserved and intact, her soul will wither up and die if she’s forbidden the enjoyment she finds in life. It would be like a prison. How can you do that to her?”

  “How can I not?” he retorted angrily.

  A burst of merry laughter across the room drew their gazes to the happy group seated in front of the fireplace. The flames crackled merrily, their warmth filling the room, Jeremy noticed. He wondered if that would be the next thing he’d have to deal with: a house fire. Firm resolve strengthened his backbone as he made a mental note to call the gas company and have the thing disconnected.

  “What are you two whispering about?” Faith asked, her face wreathed in a happy smile.

  Jeremy would have answered her then; would have laid it all out plain and clear right there in front of everyone. But as usual, Gillian interrupted him.

  “We were just discussing the trip into the city tomorrow,” she said quietly. “I think I’d better get home so I can get some sleep to prepare for twelve hours with a bunch of preteen girls. Good night, Faith. Have pleasant dreams.”

  “I always do dear,” Faith said back, her gentle face glowing with joy. “And I’ll be over bright and early tomorrow morning to accompany you. I’m looking forward to it.” She rubbed her hands together with glee.

  “Oh, but you can’t go, Auntie Fay. Not after that fall. Why you’ll overtax yourself and…”

  “We’re both going,” Arthur informed him with a scowl. Jeremy was frustrated at being interrupted again. “We have to take those lads skiing, remember.” He winked at Jeremy. “Besides, Faith says she feels fine.” Arthur smiled at Hope and Gillian. “We’ll both see you tomorrow morning.”

  “Yes, I’ll pop on home now, too,” Hope murmured, picking up her coat.

  Good manners dictated that Jeremy leave then, also, since he had been the one to drive Hope and Gillian over. On the ride back, no one said a word. But the air was tense with things left unsaid, and Jeremy knew from the down-turned line of her lips that he hadn’t heard the last of any of it from Gillian.

  That was okay. He had a few last things to say on the subject himself. And he would have launched into it when Hope left them alone a few minutes later except that Gillian’s usually brilliant vivacity was suddenly dimmed, and she moved sluggishly to take off her coat; her beautiful face drawn and weary.

  Somehow, when she looked at him with those expressive eyes, her vibrant curls cascading around her shoulders, the words wouldn’t come. And they still didn’t when Gillian leaned toward him tiredly.

  “Could you just hold me for a moment, Jeremy?” she murmured, wrapping her arms around his waist as she leaned her head on his shoulder. “I need a hug very badly just now.”

  “What’s the problem?” he asked quietly, unsure of how to deal with this new situation.

  “It’s just that when I saw her lying there in the snow, for a minute, just one minute, it reminded me of Michael and I didn’t know how I was going to deal with death again. It hurts, Jeremy. It hurts.”

  “I know,” he murmured, brushing his hand over her bright hair. “It always hurts to lose someone special. That’s why I want to take care of Auntie Fay.”

  But even as he said the words, he knew how ridiculous they were. Everyone died sometime. Faith wouldn’t live forever any more than he would. They would all breathe their last and move on to meet their maker. So why not enjoy some of what life offered right now?

  And so he stood there, his arms around Gillian’s slim figure, his chin resting on her silky hair, and held on to his pretend fiancee. And as he breathed in the light floral sweetness of her perfume, he wondered if he wasn’t missing something in his categorization of the vivacious Miss Langford—some tiny missing piece that was essential to knowing the real woman under all that effervescent exterior. Something that had to do with the little girl hiding inside; the one who needed a hug from him when she remembered the bad things in life.

  Chapter Ten

  “‘It came upon a midnight clear.’”

  The voices rang out through the narrow confines of the bus as thirty voices joined in yet another Christmas carol. Gillian grinned with relief. So far their little group of preteens from the Sunday school had been as well behaved as any of the kids in the youth group they’d supervised.

  The girls were thrilled that they were going to go shopping on their own, and the boys had good-naturedly decreed that they might consider taking the female of the species skiing next time.

  If there was a next time, Gillian thought, a whisper of sadness hanging in her mind as she remembered Jeremy’s decree of the night before.

  She glanced toward the front of the bus where Faith sat beside a bedraggled-looking little girl. They were busy talking a mile a minute, and Gillian could only imagine what about. She had half an idea that the only way little Suzy Briggs had been able to come was because Faith had found her odd jobs to do around her house for the past two weeks. Gillian knew that Suzy intended to spend every dime she’d earned on gifts for her large and needy family.

  Privately Gillian thought it would be nice for the girl to spend a little on herself. Her fair hair badly needed a professional cut; it hung in shinglelike layers on her small head, straight as a stick and most unbecoming. The other girls all wore jeans and sweaters under their ski jackets but Suzy had on an old pair of baggy black trousers that were far too big for her and a short-sleeved wrinkled blouse in the ugliest shade of pea green imaginable.

  “I think we’d better discuss the rules now,” Jeremy murmured in her ear. “We’re about five miles from the mall.”

  Gillian nodded and cleared her throat. She refused to look at him, afraid he’d see the condemnation in her eyes. It hurt to look at Faith and know what he had planned for her.

  Memories of the night before and Jeremy’s arms around her drifted across her mind. It felt so right; so good. And yet it wasn’t. She could never condone his plans for his aunt. And even though she had succumbed to need last night, and leaned against Jeremy, drawing his strength into herself, Gillian had no int
ention of doing that again.

  Why ask for more heartache? she told herself. Jeremy’s ideas for the future and her own were so far apart, nothing could close the chasm.

  She loved him; she knew that now. It was a love that had grown up in spite of her desire to mourn Michael. She had intended to avoid love, and instead it had sneaked up behind and conked her on the head.

  But it was a futile love. They were worlds apart. She wanted children, all right, Gillian assured herself. But she wanted them to be healthy, happy individuals, not little robots that performed all the correct responses but took no joy in life.

  And she wanted to live her future, not spend it being afraid of the next cataclysmic event. Most of all, she wanted a husband who would love her for herself. Jeremy wasn’t the man for that. He had this preconceived stereotypical idea that she was some bubble-headed creature who couldn’t be trusted to distinguish left from right.

  “Gillian?” She turned to find his blue-gray eyes peering down at her. “We’re almost there,” he reminded.

  “Yes, I know. Girls,” she called out abruptly and waited for their heads to turn toward her. “We’ll be arriving shortly. I just wanted to go over a few of the rules of this expedition. Number one—everyone stays in the mall. Nobody leaves without my consent Number two—we all meet for lunch in the food court at noon. Number three—we all stick together in groups of two or three. I don’t want anyone wandering off to do their own thing. Clear?”

  When they all hollered their agreement, it struck Gillian as funny. Here she was, the person who had been trying to get Jeremy to ease up on his multitude of rules and now she was here, doing exactly the same thing. Evidently he noticed it, too.

  “You see,” he said with a grin, brushing a long strand of hair out of her eyes. “Rules are good.”

  “Some rules,” she asserted. “Others are just excuses to impose your will on someone else. Come on, ladies,” she called, grabbing her purse and leading the way. “On Dancer, on Prancer.”