Faithfully Yours Page 6

  “I’ve never forgotten the pleasure she gave me in those days. Or the way she would tuck me in at night and kiss me.” Jeremy glanced at her apologetically. “There aren’t many people who will kiss anyone good-night in boarding school,” he muttered quietly, his eyes downcast.

  “But what about during the summers,” Gillian demanded angrily. “Surely you lived with your parents then?”

  She couldn’t believe it when he shook his head, his sharp gray glance telling her that he thought she should know better than to ask such a silly question. Her tender heart ached at the words.

  “Gillian, an archaeological dig is no place for a child. There are valuable artifacts lying about and open pits around which it would be dangerous for a child to play. Not that there was much to play with, anyway. Besides, it was far too hot, as I found out the one summer I insisted on visiting them. I spent most of my time cataloguing their finds. A layer of sand covered everything.”

  Gillian stacked the dishes into her aunt’s dishwasher with a snap to her wrist that boded ill for the stoneware.

  “I happen to feel that real, live children are more valuable than any old artifact from the past” She watched as he meticulously wrapped the leftovers and placed them neatly in the fridge. “It doesn’t sound like much of a life for a child,” she added finally.

  He looked surprised.

  “Actually it was a very good life. I was able to spend much of the summer studying for the next term. My grades were very good, and I finished my O levels a year ahead of schedule.”

  Gillian set the coffee to perk and waved him into the living room. She wanted to tell him that his rigid life-style had robbed him of the carefree play of a child, but who was she to judge. She could only sympathize with the little boy who had spent his time working on the Dewey decimal system for artifacts.

  She had just poured them each a cup of the fragrant, steaming coffee when Hope’s doorbell rang. It was Pastor Dave, in his usual jovial mood.

  “I knew you two would be here,” he said happily, his booted feet thumping heavily across the floor. “Heard about your good news, too. Congratulations.” His round shiny face beamed down at them both.

  Gillian could feel the tide of red suffusing her cheeks, as she realized from his sparkling glance that he’d heard about their supposed engagement from Faith.

  “Well, thanks anyway, Pastor,” she murmured, glancing at Jeremy’s gaping mouth. “But we’re not engaged. Mr. Nivens and I are merely colleagues.”

  “Oh, I remember. Faith did say you and your beau were trying to keep things quiet. I’ll respect your privacy, Gilly, girl. Don’t you worry. At least for a while.” He winked and patted her shoulder, then whooshed down onto the sofa.

  Gillian gritted her teeth and willed him to listen.

  “You don’t understand, Pastor. Jeremy and I aren’t engaged. Not at all.” She glanced at her supposed intended for confirmation and saw a glimmer of mirth deep in his eyes. He couldn’t be enjoying this, could he?

  “Oh, you’ve had a little tiff, I suppose. Everybody has them, sweetie. You just have to work through your problems. And at least you’re doing that now before you’re married.” Dave patted her hand consolingly. “That’s a good sign that you two are adults, willing to compromise and accommodate the other’s point of view. Now about the youth group,” he winked at them both as they sat on either side of him, mouths hanging open in consternation.

  “I just know you and your honey here will make good team leaders for the kids. I’ve arranged for them to go to Tyndale’s farm on Friday night and play Capture the Flag, and I thought you two might like to come along and watch.” He beamed down on them happily. “Next week you’re on your own.”

  As the hefty minister lunged to his feet, Gillian glared at Jeremy. Do something, she telegraphed, and breathed a sigh of relief as he, also, stood up.

  “I don’t think Gillian, er, that is, Miss Langford and I, well, we don’t exactly know just how to, well, deal with…”

  He stopped abruptly when the reverend slapped him soundly on the back and bubbled with laughter.

  “Course you don’t, son,” Dave chortled happily. “But you’re smart young folk with lots of schoolin’. I have every faith that God will lead you in your dealings with these young people. Anyway, it will be good practice for when your own come, eh!” He chuckled with glee at their surprised faces.

  “Meet you at the church in half an hour,” his jovial voice chided them. “Don’t be late.” He surged through the room toward the front door, sniggering to himself as he went. “Well, well. A wedding. Haven’t done one of those in a while.”

  Gillian sank onto the sofa, her knees buckling under the strain as she stared up at her intended. “Could you please stop this freight train?” she asked helplessly. “I think I want to get off.”

  She heard his hiss of disgust as Jeremy moved in front of her. The silver in his eyes glittered at her like steel, and his mouth was pursed in a hard, straight line of blame.

  “Well, it’s just a bit late for that, Miss Langford,” he accused. “Especially now that the whole town thinks we’re about to be married, honey!”

  “Look,” she began, anger poking at the way he was hinting that this was all her fault. “I was only trying to spare your aunt. She was just a little confused, and I didn’t want to make it worse.”

  He shoved his hands in his pockets and glared furiously at her, his mouth grim.

  “Well, you’ve made it much worse,” he complained bitterly. “Now we’ve got the minister planning our wedding.”

  Gillian felt the chill of those cold gray eyes move over her with disgust as he said, “I don’t want to get married. And especially not to a woman who is so obviously the opposite of everything I could want in my wife.” His hands clenched and unclenched at his sides. “If I wanted one, that is. Which I don’t”

  Gillian felt tears of anger press against her eyelids, but there was no way she was giving in. Not with him standing there watching.

  “Believe me,” she enunciated clearly, determined that he would hear every word. “If I ever chose to be engaged again, which I won’t, it certainly wouldn’t be to some old-fashioned, stuffed shirt from the middle ages.”

  He glared at her for so long Gillian thought his eyebrows would be completely lost in his dark mussed-up hair. His words when they came, were soft and menacing.

  “Better to be old-fashioned than an airhead with no sense of responsibility. Good night!”

  “Good night!”

  He turned without a second look and stomped his way to the front door, collecting his suit jacket on the way. Gillian was smugly amused to see that somehow during the evening his tie had loosened and several shirt buttons had come undone. Jeremy Nivens also had taco sauce on his pristine vest, she noticed with satisfaction. Some of the superiority disappeared as she glanced in Hope’s mirror and noted the state of her own disheveled appearance.

  “Just a minute,” she cried as he strode down the steps. At her words he stopped dead in his place and waited for her to catch up.

  “What are we going to do about the youth group? Pastor Dave is expecting us to take over next week. We’re supposed to be there tonight.”

  When he looked at her, Gillian flinched at the anger emanating from his frosty gaze.

  “Just another situation you’ve entangled us in, Miss Langford.” His face was carved in those hard, bitter lines that had been missing for a while tonight.

  “Well,” she murmured quietly, “are you going to tell him that you can’t do it?” She waited expectantly for his answer.

  “No,” he bellowed, sending her reeling in shock. “I let him go away believing I would help, and I will. I’ll set up a six-week Bible study for them.”

  Gillian stared at him, frowning.

  “A Bible study,” she murmured quizzically. “They usually do something fun on weekends. The Bible studies are on Wednesday evenings.” She peered up at him curiously.

  “V
ery well, then.” Jeremy jumped over the side of the car and vaulted into the seat with a move Gillian had only seen in the movies. It was proof positive that there was a lot more to the man than she had suspected, when he could make a move like that so easily.

  “You plan their events,” he muttered angrily. “I’ll plan the food.” He drove away without a single grinding of gears while she stood there staring after him. Jeremy Nivens was going to provide the food? As she walked back into the house, Gillian grimaced. What would the youth of Mossbank have to eat at their weekly get-togethers? she asked herself. Toast and jam? Or his American version of tea and crumpets? She dismissed the thought as uncharitable and not worthy of her and raced upstairs to change into her jeans and sneakers. If she was going to do this, and it looked like she was, she couldn’t afford to be late for the first night.

  To say that the youth group meeting that evening was a success would have been an overstatement of the facts. Two boys got into a disagreement after one of them twisted his ankle racing around in the bush behind the house, searching for the flag.

  Several of the girls had declined to join in the roughhousing, opting instead to jump on their host’s trampoline. Unfortunately, the combined weight of five bouncing teenagers had sent one of them toppling over the side where she’d hung suspended while Gillian and Jeremy tried to disentangle her sweater from the hook it had caught on.

  That would have been enough, but Pastor Dave insisted on announcing their “engagement” to the assembled throng and then forcing each one to promise that they would keep it under their hats. The youngsters clustered around them excitedly. The girls wanted to see her ring while the boys stood back with Jeremy and muttered “Good luck.”

  She was up to her neck in alligators, Gillian admitted when one of the girls spotted the emerald on her right hand and demanded to know if that was her engagement ring. Strangely enough, it didn’t hurt nearly as much as she’d thought, to tell them about Michael.

  “It was,” she murmured softly, perching on the log someone had placed around the fire pit. “But Michael died shortly before we were to be married. I wear the ring to remind myself of the happy times we shared.”

  “That must have hurt pretty badly,” Rosa Almirez whispered, placing her hand on Gillian’s arm.

  “Yes, it did. More than you could imagine.”

  “How did you get over him?” Janet Sivers asked.

  “Well, at first I tried to get away from all the things that reminded me of him and the plans that we had.” A movement beyond the circle of girls caught her attention, and she noted Jeremy and the boys moving closer to the fire. “I was really mad at God for letting him die, and I thought He’d done it to spite me. I decided I’d move to Mossbank and teach here.”

  “I’ll bet you thought you’d never find anyone else to love,” Marisa Clairns murmured, her eyes dreamy. “And then Mr. Nivens came along.”

  “Not exactly,” Gillian agreed, her eyes drawn to Jeremy’s darker ones. “I decided I would never get married. That I would learn how to live on my own, without anyone else.” She saw Jeremy’s dark eyes narrow as he glanced down at the group around her.

  “I was determined to do things my own way until God began working in me, and now I’m beginning to realize that He only wants what is best for me. I have to remind myself that it’s not my will but His that needs doing.”

  “But don’t you feel sort of—” Blair Jenkins shrugged her elegant shoulders “—like a traitor?” she muttered at last. “I mean, Michael was your own true love. You can’t just replace him.”

  Gillian smiled and patted the girl’s soft, blond head. “God gives us special people in our lives to teach us things, Blair. I’m not ever going to forget Michael, and no one can take his place in my heart.” The words came out with a force meant to reassure Jeremy of her good intentions. Instead he stood back from the group, looking down on her.

  But his face was a closed book, and she refused to beg him to understand. Her private feelings about her fiancé were none of his business. She was only telling the girls in the hope that it would help them deal with their own futures.

  “Well then, how can you marry Mr. Nivens?” Desiree demanded, her highly made up face accenting the ring that pierced her eyebrow and glinted in the moonlight. “You’re saying that you don’t love him.”

  Gillian chuckled, pleased by the girl’s astute mind, but just a little worried about the direction the conversation was taking. “No, sweetie. I’m saying that people have different places in our lives. You have brothers and sisters, don’t you, Desiree?” She watched the young girl nod uncertainly. “And do you love one of them way more than all the others or is there enough room in your heart for all of them to fit comfortably—maybe even one more if it comes along?”

  “Well, right now I’m not feeling a lot of love toward Zane,” Desiree admitted, motioning to her older brother who was standing near Jeremy. “He read my diary, without my permission I might add, and I’d like to smack him upside the head.” The other girls all giggled in appreciation, darting looks of condemnation at the red-faced youth. “But I get what you mean. Sort of like there’s always room for one more.”

  “Yeah. Like love means different strokes for different folks,” Blair added smugly. “And there are all kinds of love.”

  “That’s exactly right,” Pastor Dave said, smiling benignly. “And that’s what we want to talk about tonight—God’s love for each one of us.”

  The kids gathered round their pastor, sitting close together on the logs and listening with interest as he outlined God’s special enduring love for each one of them. Gillian stayed where she was, relieved to have the focus off her for now.

  “You see, guys,” the pastor continued, “it’s like there is no beginning and no end to the love God has for us. And it is always the same, not changing like Desiree said her feelings did when her brother wronged her. God’s love is always there, always holding us up, always waiting for us. All we have to do is accept it.”

  As she listened, Gillian felt herself allowing some more of the pain and anger and frustration of Michael’s death to slowly drain away. She would never understand why he had to die, she realized. But that wasn’t important.

  What was important was that God had not abandoned her, left her to face life on her own. He would be with her through the good and bad times. She just had to trust in that. And believe that some good would come out of it.

  “God can’t love us all the same,” the pastor continued. “You and I have different life experiences, different needs for Him in our lives. What you need from God is different from what I need. That doesn’t matter.” He grinned a beaming smile that included the whole group. “’Cause God already knows that, and He’s just waiting for me to ask Him for help.”

  As she glanced around at the teenagers, their faces upturned as they listened to their pastor, Gillian said a silent prayer of thanks for the new life she’d been given. I don’t know much about teenagers, God, she murmured under her breath But if You’ll help me out, I’ll do my best. Even if I have to work with cranky old Jeremy Nivens.

  She watched, smiling, as the teens jostled for position in the lineup for chips, pop and hot dogs. They were a good group, and they needed some direction. Maybe this was one area she could do some good and help herself out of the doldrums while she did.

  It was worth a try, wasn’t it?

  “It was a lovely meal, Hope. A perfect end to our day of shopping in Minot. And I’ve never had poached chicken au naturel before.” Charity glanced at the leftover colorless, odorless, tasteless meat that Hope had prepared, and with a roll of her eyes, decided to change the subject quickly. “How is your Christmas project going?”

  Hope poured out two cups of decaf and carried them across to the table. Her mind was busy arranging Flossie’s encounter with Jeremy. It wouldn’t do to be too overt…subtlety, that was the key. She sipped her coffee absently as she considered the upcoming banquet. Maybe she could arr
ange to have the two seated together.

  “Hope?”

  “Yes?” She stared at Charity’s frowning face with perplexity. “Is something wrong?” she asked.

  “Only the fact that I’ve asked you the same question three times without response.” Charity looked askance at the fourth teaspoonful of sugar Hope had laced her coffee with. “And when did you start eating white sugar?”

  Neither of them had a chance to say more, due to the pounding on Hope’s front door.

  “It’s me, dear,” Faith’s happy voice chanted. “And Arthur. Don’t worry, we’ve let ourselves in.” She breezed into the kitchen, breathless and ruffled, with the red-faced grocer trailing close behind.

  Charity shoved a chair toward him. “Sit down, Arthur, for heaven’s sake. You look like you’re about to have a heart attack.” She watched his chest heave up and down for a few moments before demanding, “Did you run from the store?”

  Arthur shook his bald head negatively as he wheezed and gasped for air. It was Faith’s bright chipper voice that filled them in.

  “Of course not,” she protested, laughing as she flopped into the one vacant chair. “We raced each other here from my house. Arthur came for dinner.” She raked her hand through her tumble of gray curls and grinned mischievously at the two women. “And he’s got the most wonderful news.”

  Her bright green eyes sparkled as she patted Arthur’s rough hand. “Go ahead, dear. Tell them.”

  Poor Arthur looked confused, glancing from Faith to Hope to Charity. His mouth was moving but there was no sound coming from it, and Faith was clearly losing patience with him.

  “Oh, never mind,” she said at last, her hands fluttering madly. “I’ll do it myself.” She took a deep breath and with a beam of satisfaction told her friends the good news. “Arthur says my Jeremy and your Gillian are engaged. Isn’t it wonderful!”