Faithfully Yours Page 19

  “Anyway, I was walking home, shuffling my feet through the snow. You know how you do when you’re mad? Well, I was mad, really mad. I stopped in front of a store to look at the wonderful dolls in the window and I got even madder. Why couldn’t my sisters and I have those dolls, I yelled at God. We deserved them, and we’d never had anything like them before.”

  Gillian watched twenty-four pairs of eyes widen when Faith told them she had yelled at God. She could relate, she thought wryly. Goodness knew, she’d been yelling at God an awful lot herself lately. Especially in matters to do with Jeremy Nivens.

  Why couldn’t the man just admit that he was attracted to her? Just for once, why couldn’t he let go of his stern facade of control and let her in past the barriers he always erected? They had something special; she knew they did. Why wouldn’t he acknowledge that there was something growing between them?

  “Well, as I stood there, fuming and fussing, an elderly lady spoke from behind me. She was very tiny and she had on an elegant fur coat and a wonderful hat with an ostrich feather. And on her hands she wore the finest leather gloves.”

  Faith pantomimed the motions, patting her head and pretending to pull on a pair of long gloves.

  “‘What’s the matter little girl?’ she asked me in a soft voice. I glared up at her and told her I was mad.” Faith’s eyes surveyed her captive audience. Her voice dropped to a whisper. “‘Why…why are you so angry at God? He’s given you a wonderful family, a warm home and enough to eat. What’s wrong with that?’”

  Gillian noticed several children nodding. They were from families that were almost destitute after paying off huge loans for the land they farmed. Faith was continuing.

  “Well, I just told her, ‘I want Christmas presents for my family. I want to be like all the other people who give gifts under the tree. I want to give them something special.” She shook her gray head. “That lady just stared at me. She never said a word for a very long time and then she said, ‘Come with me, dear.’ So I did. I followed her. All the way home.”

  Gillian caught Jasmine’s eye before she could start on her recitation about following people you don’t know. She put her finger to her lips and was gratified to see the little girl nod.

  “That lady lived in a great big huge house up on the top of a hill. And when we went in and sat in front of a big warm fire, another lady brought cookies and tea. I ate as many as I could and then I sat back in my chair and listened when the lady began talking.”

  The children leaned forward, knowing they were getting to the good part.

  “‘Your name is Faith, isn’t it?’ she whispered in a funny soft voice. I nodded. ‘And what do you want most this Christmas, Faith?’ she asked me. So I told her. ‘I want to be rich like you. I want to have a big house and lots of money…enough to buy presents for everyone. I want to be like other kids.’” Faith paused for a moment.

  “She smiled a very funny smile and then patted me on the head. ‘Do you know about God?’ she asked me. I told her that I’d known about God for a long time. ‘Well then,’ she said. ‘Can you tell me two things in the world that God created that are the same?’” Faith smiled down at them, waiting for someone to answer.

  There was silence for the longest time as her charges thought through the puzzle, trying to figure it out.

  “I know,” Roddy bellowed, thrusting his arm up toward the ceiling. “Twins!”

  Everyone agreed that God made twins the same, but Faith was shaking her head.

  “Close,” she told them with a smile. “Twins look an awful lot alike and they sometimes dress the same, but if you look really closely, there’s always some little difference. Either they have a different look to their face or they like different things, or maybe one has a mole the other doesn’t have. If you try really hard you can tell them apart.”

  The children appeared to be considering that.

  “Well, this old lady told me that God even makes snowflakes different. Did you know there are no two snowflakes the same? Each one is just a little different from all the others. Why is that, do you suppose?” She waited a moment.

  “I told the lady that I didn’t know, and she said, ‘God likes people and snowflakes to be themselves. He doesn’t want us to try and look like or act like someone else. He wants us to be our very own special selves, just the way He made us.’” There was a light tinkling laugh.

  “Well, I thought that was pretty good, so I asked her why God didn’t make us all rich like her. And do you know what she said?” Every head shook as every eye fastened on Faith expectantly.

  “She said, ‘Oh, no, child. You don’t want to be like me, all alone in this big old house with my family all dead and gone. God gave you a very special family, a unique one, all your own. Just like the snowflakes. Now you have to learn how to use all the wonderful things God gave especially to you. God doesn’t want another one of me, he wants a oneof-a-kind person like you.’”

  Faith’s face became sad. “I felt sad for her. She had no one to share with. I had my sisters and my parents but she had no one. So I decided to give her a gift, as well as my family, by bringing everyone together. On Christmas Day we all went to her house and sang songs and sat around the fire. She asked my father if we could stay and have dinner with her, and it was the most wonderful dinner I’ve ever eaten.”

  “Was it turkey?” Roddy asked.

  “No.” Faith shook her head. “It was something completely different—her own special way of celebrating.”

  “So whenever it gets near Christmas, I like to think of that lady, and I like to look at snowflakes and see how different they are. That reminds me that God made me just the way I am.”

  “I didn’t never see no snowflake by itself before,” Roddy muttered, clearly deep in thought. “How d’ya do that?”

  “That’s what I’m going to show you,” Faith said happily. She slipped across to the window, slid it open and carefully pulled in a huge sheet of black bristol board.

  “I put this in the freezer last night, and this morning when it started to snow, I set it outside. Now the snowflakes won’t melt for a minute or two and you can see how different each one is.”

  The children crowded around, eager to experience this hands-on information. As they oohed and aahed over the melting flakes, Gillian wondered if Faith wasn’t hinting just a little at her and Jeremy’s ongoing argument.

  There could be no doubt that the man was different; as far removed from Michael as anyone could be. But that didn’t mean she loved him any less. Perhaps God was telling her to make some adjustments.

  As she and Faith worked side by side, folding and unfolding white paper that the children cut into snowflakes of every size and description, Gillian was struck again by how gently God worked. Such a great truth and yet Faith had applied it so easily. She decided to think about it again later, when she had more time.

  “Jeremy?” Gillian watched as those muscular shoulders covered by a thin cotton T-shirt stretched as he set down the paintbrush he’d been wielding across the massive set several parents had constructed only that morning. “Could I speak to you for a moment? Please?”

  “Yes?” His voice was not in the least welcoming, and Gillian tried to recall the verse she’d read only this morning: “Thou wilt keep him in perfect peace whose mind is stayed on Thee.”

  “I’m trying, Lord,” she whispered. “I’m trying.” She straightened her backbone and concentrated on her next words.

  “I wondered if you would consider handling the youth group alone this weekend.” The words came out in a rush as she waited for his explosion.

  “Why? Is something wrong?” He resumed his even strokes, back and forth across the plywood.

  “Not exactly. I just need to go back to Boston. Just for a day or two. To get my bearings. It’s personal.” She finished at last, embarrassed at having said so much.

  Jeremy slowly put down his brush, dusted his hands on his paint-spattered overalls and straightened. His face w
as a mask of tightly controlled tension as he glared down at her.

  “You’re choosing now, when we’re this close—” he held his thumb and forefinger millimeters apart “—to putting on this play?”

  “I think things are pretty well in hand, thanks to the parents,” she murmured reasonably. “Aren’t they?”

  “Perhaps at school. But what about the youth group? What are they doing tomorrow night, anyway?” He looked grim and forbidding, and Gillian’s heart ached with pain.

  If only he could relax a little; let someone take on a bit of the responsibility for a while. She knew it wasn’t likely. He’d insisted on painting the backdrops himself, even though several very qualified drama students from the high school had offered.

  “Gillian?” He was frowning down at her.

  “Oh, sorry,” she muttered, embarrassed at having been caught daydreaming.

  “Why do you always do that?” he demanded angrily. His eyes were cold and hard.

  “Do what?” Gillian asked blankly, staring at him.

  “Apologize in that little-girl voice as if I’m some type of ogre.” He thrust his hands into his pocket angrily.

  “Oh, sorry,” she said automatically and then slapped her hand over her mouth in dismay as he rolled his eyes. “I wasn’t really apologizing,” she tried to explain. “More like coming back down to earth.”

  “Sorry is the accepted English word for an apology,” he advised her through clenched teeth. “It does not mean daydreaming.”

  The tide rose in her, red and hot, in answer to his nasty tone and griping words. Don’t play this game, a little voice whispered inside her mind, and Gillian swallowed down the angry response.

  “I was asking if you thought you could handle the youth group,” she reminded him carefully. “They’re supposed to go skating, if you recall. And then one of the parents offered to build a fire in the park and bring hot dogs for everyone to roast”

  “Hah! As if anyone could feed enough to that bunch of devouring animals.” He shook his head with stern disapproval. “I just read an article that says there’s far too much fat in the diets of North Americans. Especially teenagers.”

  Gillian smiled. She had to. The gauntlet had been thrown down so often in the past few moments, she should have been red-hot. If not for the Lord’s help. And her vow to try to understand this man.

  “Yes, I suppose it must seem that way to you,” she nodded, considering his words. “What was your favorite food in England?”

  His eyes opened wide as he stared at her, but finally a glint of humor broke through to tug at the corner of his mouth.

  “Roast beef, mashed potatoes, gravy and apple pie,” he admitted at last.

  Gillian’s eyebrows rose. “And you have the nerve to talk about our diet.” She chuckled. “It’s rather like the pot calling the kettle black.”

  “I suppose,” he admitted at last. His eyes narrowed. “I don’t understand the need to slather everything with ketchup, though. How do they even taste the flavor of the food?”

  Gillian slipped the brush out of his hand and added a few strokes to the curve of draperies painted around the window.

  “I think that’s the whole purpose,” she said with a chuckle. “They don’t taste anything but the ketchup!”

  He removed the brush before studying her work critically.

  “I prefer to do this myself,” he murmured, wiping away her work and carefully painting in a new drapery.

  Gillian watched as he worked, sadness welling up inside her at his refusal to allow anyone past the shell he had created.

  “You can’t do it all, Jeremy,” she whispered, wishing she understood this complex man. “Sooner or later you’re going to have to take what other people offer. We all need each other.”

  She stepped back, her heel grazing the unsteady platform behind. His hand grasped her arm, holding her steady as she regained her balance. Gillian was amazed to find herself mere inches from his quizzical gaze.

  “You’re very much like my aunt in some ways,” he murmured, holding her gaze with his own. She felt his eyes graze across her face and felt her cheeks color at the intricate inspection he was giving her. “You always want everything to move along smoothly and happily, everyone getting along famously.”

  “What’s wrong with that?” she demanded softly, refusing to step away from his challenge.

  “It’s unrealistic. Life isn’t always like that, Gillian. Take you and me. You always want to look on the bright side and ignore the problems.”

  “And you only ever see the problems,” she quipped back. “The pessimist and the optimist.”

  “You live in a fairy-tale world where you made Michael into Prince Charming and you were the fairy princess.” He shook his head, a grim smile curving his lips as his fingers slid up her arm to twiddle absently with the bouncing curls on her shoulder. “Life is hard. There are a lot of bad things that happen. It’s much easier to deal with them if you’ve done some preparation.”

  “Michael used to say ‘Seize the day,’” she retorted. “He taught me not to spend my life in worry and fear for what might happen tomorrow. I want to live today to the full. Can’t you let go of your inhibitions and enjoy what God has given?”

  “You can’t make me into Michael,” he muttered, as his arms moved across her back to pull her against him. His lips grazed her forehead and moved down purposefully toward her mouth. “I am me—a different person with a different life experience.”

  “You don’t always have to run him down,” Gillian whispered, breathless with waiting as his lips moved nearer hers. “He was a wonderful man.”

  “I’m sure he was. And I’m equally sure I’m not nearly as wonderful. But one thing I will admit…your Michael certainly knew how to find a beautiful woman.” His eyes blazed into hers. “I hope you won’t be sorry, but I am going to seize the moment and kiss you.”

  And with that, his mouth touched hers softly, gently, drawing a response Gillian could not have stopped. In fact, she amazed herself with her own fervor as her hands just naturally moved up to his shoulders and she let her fingers rove through his crisp dark hair.

  His lips were strong and sure as they kissed her, not unlike Jeremy himself. But even as he kissed her so masterfully, there was an uncertainty, a question behind his touch, a mistrust. It was as if he were afraid she would reject him now.

  With the tiniest movement, Gillian answered that, holding him closer and answering with her own soft lips, drawing in a tiny gasp when his mouth moved to her neck and touched the pulse that hammered there.

  It didn’t last long enough.

  “We shouldn’t be doing this,” he murmured huskily, pressing her gently away. “This is a public building. Anyone might walk in.”

  Gillian slowly lifted her hands away from his wide shoulders, her mind whirling with the information that was traveling to her brain. He’d kissed her. And what a kiss!

  “Why not?” she managed at last. “We are supposed to be engaged.” Her eyes took in the splotches of red on his cheekbones as he stepped backward and turned to focus once more on his painting.

  Long and empty, the silence dragged out between them until Jeremy finally laid down his brush and turned and faced her. His voice, when it came, was soft but strong and she could hear the bitter tones underneath.

  “But we both know that’s a facade, don’t we, Gillian?” he asked her. “I think you’ve made it quite clear that you’re looking for someone to take your former fiancé’s place. We both know that’s not me.” His eyes were clear and focused as they stared back at her and Gillian felt the air sizzle with electricity.

  “I am who I am, Gillian. I’m not a knight in shining armor and I can’t pretend to be. I hold strong opinions and I’m not afraid to say what I think. I’ve never been the romantic type, never even considered freezing rings in ice cubes. And I don’t believe in making grand, airy gestures like all the best heroes.”

  He reached up and pressed back a curl
that was bouncing tantalizingly near her mouth. His eyes were icy steel now and they penetrated through the foggy haze of her mind, bringing her to startled awareness. He was serious, she realized. Deadly serious.

  “But when I love someone, Gillian, it will be with all of me. I won’t renege on my promise, but neither will I do silly things to prove myself. I will always protect those people that I love. That’s part of who I am.”

  “I know,” she whispered sadly. “I’ve seen how much you care for Faith. But, Jeremy, sometimes your protection hurts the very people you say you love. Can’t you just let them be?”

  She stared at him for several moments before turning away, the light of hope dying inside her. His cool, implacable face never changed its look. He would insist on pushing the business with Faith, she knew. He felt it was his duty.

  Help me through this, she prayed silently as she made her way out to Hope’s smoothly purring car. Let me find the answers to unlock his heart, because I love him, Lord. And I think he could love me. If he’d let himself.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Jeremy breathed a sigh of relief and slowly eased his shaky legs forward. “I’ll kill her for this,” he told himself, easing one skate in front of the other. “If I don’t die first.”

  It was an emotional outburst, he realized. Something he hadn’t been prone to until Gillian’s advent into his life. He struggled to keep his balance as a group of his ruffians swooped past, almost toppling him in their haste to move on.

  “Hey, Jeremy, you gotta slide. Like this,” David Crest moved slowly beside him, gliding his feet in a smooth, firm motion that did send the boy sailing over the glistening ice with athletic prowess. “No, don’t walk,” he ordered. “Slide.”

  Jeremy tried it and to his surprise found that the smooth motions propelled him forward at a rate he could almost control.

  “Way to go, teach,” David cheered.

  That was right before he forgot to concentrate and landed on his keister. Hard.