Faithfully Yours Page 8

  “No, I don’t mean that at all.” He glared at her. “I’m trying to look at this situation rationally and with some forethought”

  It was hopeless, Jeremy decided. The woman hadn’t a serious bone in her shapely little body. For some strange reason he suddenly thought of her fiancé, Michael, and wondered what the man who had put up with all this nonsense had been like. He would have given a great deal to ask the man some very pertinent questions right now.

  “No, of course I won’t go along with it,” he muttered. “It’s ridiculous. The board would be down my throat.”

  “Oh, the board!” She kissed her fingers into the air. “Ned’s the chairman, and I don’t think he’d care one iota what we do in our spare time. And we don’t need a ring. I could say that we’re having a special one made, or that we haven’t decided on one yet or something.” Her big iridescent green eyes narrowed, and Jeremy felt his pulse pick up. “Besides, we couldn’t disappoint your aunt, now could we? After all, she was so happy about us.”

  “There is no us!” He felt his temper exploding and poured every effort into containing it. “Why do you insist on carrying on with this ludicrous situation? We have nothing in common, so I very much doubt that anyone would be surprised at the sudden breakup.”

  He watched her face, studying the mobile features with interest. She was a curious mix, he decided. Like a coltish young girl galloping through life. And yet he knew that she was no teenager.

  “Well then, what about your aunt?” she demanded. “How can you disappoint her like this? She’s so excited right now. She thinks you’re finally going to settle down and be happy.”

  Jeremy would have interrupted then, but Gillian, it seemed, wasn’t quite finished. He watched as her expression went from tenderness to indignation.

  “I can’t believe that you would actually send that woman to a nursing home,” she grated, green eyes sparkling with indignation. “Faith will be heartbroken when she learns you think she’s so incompetent that she has to have full-time care.”

  “Then I’ll just have to deal with that, won’t I,” Jeremy returned evenly. He should have stopped there, but he felt obliged to answer the condemnation evident on her lovely face. “I love my aunt, you know. And I’m trying to protect her as best I can.”

  “By locking her up?” Gillian demanded. “You know she’ll hate that!”

  He sighed, controlling his temper with difficulty. That was something new, Jeremy admitted. Until he’d come to this little town he’d seldom felt anger, let alone had to control it. He’d lived his life on the basis of rationality—every decision he’d made had been carefully weighed as to the best possible outcome and benefit, and Auntie Fay was no different.

  “It’s my duty to see that she is properly cared for,” he reiterated quietly. “Since I cannot be there all the time, I have to find another solution. The nursing home is the best resolution to the problem.”

  “There is no problem!” Gillian’s voice was raised in anger, and Jeremy fought his own temper with difficulty. “Faith is perfectly fine on her own. So she burned something, so what? Lots of women burn a meal or two in their lifetimes.” Her eyes shot little jade daggers at him. “You would know that if you had ever cooked anything,” she muttered snidely.

  “It’s not just the fire,” he admitted finally, knowing she wouldn’t give up until he’d said it all. Gillian Langford bore a striking resemblance to a bulldog with a large juicy bone when she got herself into this mode. “Today I found some ice cream she’d forgotten in the back of her car. It had melted into the upholstery and took quite a bit of time and energy to clean up. Faith doesn’t even remember buying it.”

  “So what?” Her narrow shoulders shrugged inelegantly. “I’ve bought things and forgotten them at the store after I’ve paid for them. That doesn’t prove I should be put away where no one will pay me the least bit of attention. If she goes into a home, Faith will undoubtedly become more confused and forgetful from the stress of all the changes. She needs familiar surroundings.”

  Jeremy sighed. He didn’t feel perfectly satisfied with this decision himself. It certainly didn’t help to have to argue it all out with a woman who couldn’t understand the fear that rose in him when he realized that he could have lost the one person in the world whom he most wanted to take care of.

  “Look,” he offered at last, keeping his tones even and calm, “Auntie Fay isn’t the issue here, right now. What I came here to discuss with you is this preposterous engagement. I can’t continue to live a lie. We are going to have to tell the truth. If we look ridiculous, so be it.”

  He shifted in his chair uneasily, wondering if he wasn’t a fool to divest himself of the most beautiful woman in town. He’d never had much to do with the fairer sex, but even Jeremy knew that Gillian Langford was something special when it came to the female of the species.

  “I suggest that we speak to the pastor tomorrow after church.” He forced the words out, anyway, unwilling to acknowledge the dull sense of loss he was feeling. “We have to do the right thing,” he repeated to himself. “We can’t keep living a lie.”

  Gillian chose that moment to jump up from her chair. “Then we’d better come up with a plan as to exactly how we’re going to handle this,” she said quickly. “It won’t be easy. The whole town knows about us by now. You think of something while I get us a drink.” She stared at him until he nodded, then moved to slip past his chair. But her pink toes seemed caught on the tassels of the rug, and she lost her balance.

  Jeremy watched wide-eyed as Gillian reached out for something that wasn’t there, teetered in midair for nanoseconds and then landed with a flurry on his lap. He reached out protectively to hold her slim shape steady.

  It was sheer unfortunate circumstance that the three elderly women happened to walk in the door at that precise moment He saw Gillian’s aunt Hope study them suspiciously through astute blue eyes. She took note of the way his arm was curved around Gillian’s waist and the way she dangled rather inelegantly on his lap…as if they had just finished some heavy-duty necking, he considered sourly.

  “Oh, piffle!” Faith’s high voice twittered in the yawning silence, drawing everyone’s attention to her. Gillian took the opportunity to stand, freeing herself from his embrace, her eyes quickly slewing away from his.

  “We should have given them another few minutes. Hello, young lovers,” Faith trilled gaily.

  Gillian met Jeremy’s dark, forbidding gaze with her own and clearly heard the frustration in the words he whispered. “Oh, brother. Now look what you’ve done!”

  Gillian hurried into the small church, checking for early arrivals as she did. D-day! And D was for denial…as in engagement

  “Hello, dear,” Faith Rempel murmured. “Arriving a bit early, are you?”

  “Hello, Mrs. Rempel.” Gillian felt herself flushing at the glint of knowing in the older woman’s eyes. She’d seen the same look yesterday when the three older women had busied themselves, leaving her and Jeremy alone and embarrassed.

  Gillian slipped off her heavy, black wool coat and hung it up with more care than was strictly necessary.

  “I’m supposed to play the organ today, and I was hoping to get in a few moments’ practice before Sunday school.”

  Faith nodded benignly.

  “I know, dear. Jeremy’s already here. Go on in. You’ll find him behind the piano.”

  Faith turned away and immediately began chatting with another elderly woman who had just come through the door. Gillian didn’t hear a word they were saying; all she could hear was the loud and forceful notes of the doxology resounding around the high ceilings of the sanctuary.

  She stepped through the doors, tilting her head to one side as Jeremy switched tunes and began a lilting but complicated rendition of Beethoven’s “Hymn to Joy” from the Ninth Symphony.

  Jeremy Nivens was good, Gillian admitted. Very good. He played the baby grand with firm authority and yet careful attention to detail. The fortes w
ere steady and decisive while the pianissimos were delicate, light touches that communicated a depth of feeling for the songs. And through the entire rippling melody, she heard not one wrong note.

  Sucking in a breath for courage, she walked slowly down the aisle, slipped off her shoes and took her position behind the organ, switching it on and setting the worn knobs just the way she wanted. He looked startled to see her there, but merely nodded his dark head at her.

  “I was going to try number two hundred next,” he murmured, waiting until she found it.

  Gillian nodded, relieved to find that she knew the song. In fact, “Count Your Blessings” had always been her mother’s favorite song, and she’d heard it repeated in poem form often over the years. The organ was simple to manage, and even though she hadn’t played for months, it responded to her every request, matching the piano and Jeremy’s notes beat for beat.

  “You’re very good,” she told him when the last chords had died away. “I had no idea you could play.”

  He grinned back at her, a slight mocking note to his smile.

  “Probably thought I was too old for music, right?”

  Gillian grimaced ruefully at the remark, knowing she’d asked for it with her own uncharitable remarks weeks ago.

  “I’m sorry,” she offered quietly. “I should never have said a lot of what I did.”

  “Even if it was the truth?” He took pity on her after a moment and explained that he’d begun taking lessons when he was four.

  “I’ve always loved the piano. At school the other kids used to have to pry me away from it. And of course we always had a school choir. It was good training in the classics, and there’s nothing better than an old English church for a cappella singing.”

  He was flipping through several papers on the piano bench.

  “I thought maybe this would do for the offertory,” he murmured, handing her a copy of “All Creatures of Our God and King.”

  The sheet music was arranged for piano and organ and thankfully, Gillian noted, the organ section was fairly straightforward. “Could we run over it once before everyone arrives?” she asked, glancing up to find his dark eyes fixed appreciatively on her navy silk dress. “I’m afraid I haven’t played in some time.”

  He shrugged. “Why not?”

  The notes were carefully placed in several keys so that the total effect was one of building adoration for God’s wonderful creation, providence and redemption as the harmony resounded throughout the joyous anthem.

  “You play very well,” he said, closing the lid as children began arriving for Sunday school. “I’m afraid that’s all I can do for now, though. I’ve got that class the pastor landed me with, and they’ll tear the room apart if I leave them for very long.”

  Gillian chuckled, straightening her dress as she slipped her feet back into her bright red heels. She picked up the matching leather handbag and walked with him to the Christian education rooms.

  “They had better not,” she chuckled, pushing a stray tendril off her cheek. “I have the room next door, and my girls are very well behaved.”

  His eyes widened in disbelief. “Don’t tell me you were conned, too?”

  “Not exactly conned,” Gillian said, looking up at him with a pert grin. “Let’s just say there was no opportunity to refuse.” She tugged open the door to her class and motioned to the rows of seated girls who sat watching them and giggling behind their hands. “See, I told you.”

  Just then a paper airplane sailed out from the room next door and there was a loud thump. Jeremy raised his left eyebrow at her and frowned. “And I told you,” he muttered darkly, “they’re wild, untamed animals. See you later.” He was inside with the door closed before Gillian made her response.

  “Yes. Later.”

  Later turned out to be only seconds before the morning service began and there was no time to do anything more than place her purse and Bible in a nearby pew and climb onto the organ bench once more.

  The hymns the pastor had chosen were happy lilting ones that people sang when they wanted to praise God, and Gillian enjoyed hearing the small congregation join their voices in tribute to Him. The music included many of the same songs she had sung for years, and she managed to play them quite easily.

  Jeremy, it seemed, wasn’t quite so pleased. He frowned when Pastor Dave neglected to ask the congregation to stand for “This Is My Father’s World” and “All People That On Earth Do Dwell.” And he was almost scowling when junior church was canceled and the offertory held back to just before the sermon. Thankfully, however, his ill humor wasn’t directed at her. Their number went smoothly, inspiring the pastor’s kind remarks afterward.

  As Jeremy sat down beside her in the pew, Gillian felt prickles of awareness as she heard the minister’s next words. “They make a good team on the instruments, don’t they folks. And I’m sure most everyone knows by now that these two are engaged, so Jeremy and Gillian will be teaming up together in the future as well.”

  She closed her eyes at the murmuring and cheerful smiles directed their way. She ignored Jeremy’s ramrod-straight backbone and the tense way he held himself in the seat. It was getting worse by the minute, she decided grimly. There was no way they could back out now without looking totally insane, but she still intended to give him the opportunity.

  Gillian took a deep breath, opened her eyes and focused them on the minister. There was nothing she could do right now But somehow, God would show her the next step. For the moment she intended to enjoy the morning message.

  “Folks, I want to talk to you today about your neighbor,” Pastor Dave began with a wide grin down at them. His eyes twinkled with mirth. “You know, I once had a neighbor who insisted on wearing his hair combed from one side of his head, clean over the bald spot on the top to the other side. He sprayed and patted and combed that mess and when a good wind came along, that hair stood to attention like a private saluting a colonel.”

  The audience laughed at the mental picture.

  “He wore clothes from the sixties and shoes from World War II. I never had too much to do with the fellow. Always figured he was a little weird and if I got too near, some of it might rub off. Some folks might say it already has.”

  Gillian sat in her seat, nervously aware of the man seated next to her as the crowd laughed at the pastor’s joke. From time to time, Jeremy’s shoulder brushed hers and she felt a tingle of awareness. When it happened, she would shift slightly and refocus on the minister. It happened that she was shifting quite a lot.

  “But you know, dear ones, that one day I really needed a friend to help me out and that fellow was the only person around I had to swallow my pride and ask his help even though I’d avoided talking to him in the past.”

  The minister’s voice was solemn and quiet in the stillness of the sanctuary. Even the children sat silent, listening.

  “Well, it turned out that Duncan was more than willing to help me out of a tight spot. In fact he went beyond help. He went the second mile. And as we talked that day, I began to realize that Duncan was on the verge of suicide. Everyone at the university avoided him or made fun of him, and he felt the stigma deeply.” Pastor Dave cleared his husky voice.

  “His average was nine on the Stainer Scale of Nine. He couldn’t go any higher. He had no less than four prestigious job offers from companies that had responded to his impressive résumé.”

  Gillian felt Jeremy tense beside her as a baby cried out its discomfort, but as the minister began speaking again, her attention was fixed on the pulpit.

  “But on that particular day Duncan was at the bottom of the despair trough. The one job he’d really wanted had been offered to someone far less qualified, simply because Duncan hadn’t fit the company image for their top man. He wasn’t tall, wasn’t handsome, and he was bald.”

  Gillian noticed several of the members dabbing at their eyes.

  “There wasn’t much I could say. Duncan knew why he’d been rejected. And he was hurting. Badly. I coul
d have told him it didn’t matter, but that would have hurt him more, because to Duncan, it mattered. A lot.” Pastor Dave smiled.

  “Duncan wanted just one thing from me. He didn’t want to be judged and found wanting again. He certainly didn’t want pity. And he really wasn’t interested in trying to become someone he wasn’t.” A silence of expectation floated in the room as every eye focused on the minister.

  “Good old Duncan just wanted acceptance from me. He’d already made up his mind that if he was rejected once more, he’d kill himself. And I stood between him and that decision.”

  Pastor Dave looked around at the congregation and smiled at them. “What we’re talking about here is acceptance. A little charity. I’m happy to say that I didn’t miss it that particular time, but I wonder how often we Christians actually are able to bypass the outward appearance and accept the person inside who is desperately crying out for our attention.”

  His words went on and on, but Gillian was focused on what he had said about accepting other people for who they are. Some part of her conscience nagged her about that phrase; poking and prodding until she was forced to acknowledge that she hadn’t always accepted people for who they were. Especially lately. Especially the man seated next to her.

  But then, there was such a lot about Jeremy Nivens that needed correction. Even now he was sitting there impatiently checking his watch every few minutes, as if that would remind the pastor that the service usually ended about this time.

  Gillian came out from her reverie just in time to hear Pastor Dave’s final admonitions.

  “We have to learn to accept people for who they are, without trying to tamper with their personalities. This week let’s all see if we can pass around a little of that unconditional acceptance that Christ gave to us.”

  Gillian moved to the organ and played the last hymn, her thoughts still whirling madly. When the pastor had moved to the foyer and half of the congregation had left their seats, she looked at Jeremy and, noting his nod, ended on the last verse. He got up from the piano immediately, closing the lid carefully.