02_Groom of Her Own (29 page)

It was his eyes, though, that held her spellbound. Tender, caring, softened by love, and—simmering in their depths—just a hint of the passion he’d held carefully in check all these months. A passion that he would soon be able to allow free rein, Sam thought with a sudden, delicious tingle of anticipation.

As Henry relinquished his hold, Brad smiled down at her and tucked her arm in his, protectively covering her hand with his own. And as they moved forward to take the vows that would unite them as man and wife for all time, Sam’s heart overflowed with joy. The holiday might still be two days away, she thought, but she had just received the most wonderful Christmas present of all—her very own happy ending.

Epilogue

Fourteen months later

B
rad gazed tenderly at Sam’s face, serene in sleep, and reached over to gently press his lips to her forehead. She stirred slightly at his touch, and he smiled in anticipation as she burrowed a little more deeply into the pillow, then emitted a small sigh. He never tired of watching her awaken. First there was the flutter of her burnished lashes against her creamy cheeks. Then came the slightly unfocused confusion in her vivid green eyes. Finally there was the smile that warmed her face as her eyes cleared and connected with his, a smile filled with deep, abiding love that never failed to make his breath catch in his throat Not a day went by that he didn’t thank the Lord for sending this special, cherished woman into his life.

“Hi there, sleepyhead,” he said softly, lightly brushing a stray wisp of hair off her forehead as their gazes met

“Hi,” she mumbled sleepily, rubbing her eyes with the backs of her hands in a little-girl-like gesture, endearing because it was so at odds with her usual sophisticated demeanor.

A sudden rush of tenderness swept over him, and his throat constricted as he delicately stroked her cheek. The gray tinge of fatigue that had earlier shaded her face was gone, he noted thankfully, leaving in its place an almost luminous glow. “How do you feel?” he asked.

She considered the question thoughtfully. “Good,” she said at last, a contented smile softening her face. “And happy. And very grateful.”

“My thoughts exactly,” Brad replied huskily. “And I might also add, very blessed.” Then he withdrew a single, perfect, long-stemmed rose from behind his back and handed it to her. “Happy Valentine’s Day, darling,” he said tenderly.

Sam smiled mistily, overwhelmed as always by the bountiful love in his expressive eyes, and inhaled the sweet, rich fragrance. “It’s beautiful, Brad,” she whispered. “Thank you.”

“There are twenty-three more over on the table,” he told her, nodding toward an overflowing vase.

Sam’s eyes grew wide. “Oh, Brad! That’s such an extravagance!”

“Well, only a dozen are for you,” he admitted.

“Oh?” she said, quirking an eyebrow.

“Yes,” he confirmed solemnly. He took her hand between his. “I must confess, Sam…there’s another woman in my life now. The other dozen are for her.”

“And what might this other woman’s name be?” Sam asked, her lips curving up into a sweet smile.

“Emily.” He said the name wonderingly, as if savoring the sound of it on his tongue.

A tender light suffused Sam’s face. “And where is Emily?” she asked softly.

Brad reached behind him and carefully lifted a tiny pink bundle, which he placed in Sam’s outstretched arms. “She’s right here. Waiting patiently for her mommy to wake up.”

With one finger, Sam carefully touched the tiny but perfeet nose, stroked the fuzz of reddish hair, stared down in awe at the wide blue eyes that gazed up at her so trustingly. She had never been this happy in her whole life, or overcome by so many emotions. Her throat tightened, and a tear spilled out of one eye to trail down her cheek.

Brad reached over and delicately traced its path with one fingertip, then wiped it away with a featherlight touch. “No more tears, Sam,” he said, his voice firm but gentle. “Our time for weeping is past. This is our time to laugh—and to love.” Then, one hand resting on their new daughter, the other on Sam, he reached over to tenderly claim the lips of the woman who had brought him joy beyond measure.

Sam closed her eyes, and in the moment before the magic of his kiss drove all thoughts from her mind, she was overcome by a profound sense of joy and fulfillment and gratitude. And by something else as well—the peace of true forgiveness. It was as if a burden had suddenly been lifted from her heart, and for the first time she felt truly free from her past.

And as Brad’s lips closed over hers, her heart soared. For here, in this circle of love that the Lord had blessed her with, she had at last found her redemption.

*   *   *   *   *

Dear Reader,

I’ve always enjoyed reading romances, so as a writer I suppose it was inevitable that I would eventually pen my own romantic tales. I especially enjoy writing inspirational stories, because they allow me to focus on the three things that last—faith, hope and love.

A Groom of Her Own
was a special pleasure to write because it embodies all three of these elements. Sam’s faith gives her the courage to hope, and the love she and Brad share is strong enough to free her from her past. As this story illustrates, nothing is impossible with God and love really does conquer all. If that isn’t inspirational, I don’t know what is!

The tremendous power of love is a recurring theme in romances, and it appears again in the third and final book of my Vows series,
A Family of Her Own,
which features Brad’s sister, Rebecca. It is a story of vulnerability and of innocence lost, and how love transforms the lives of three very special people.

I hope to the Vows series touches your heart. And as you journey through life, may your path always be paved with faith, hope and love.

Coming in May 1998

Irene Hannon’s heartwarming Vows series
continues with Book #3, the story of
Rebecca Matthews
in
A Family of Her Own

Just turn the page for an exciting preview….

Chapter One

R
ebecca Matthews stifled a yawn and reached for the cup of coffee in the holder under the dashboard. It had been a long day and she was bone weary. She glanced at her watch, and groaned. Ten-thirty. Make that a
very
long day, she amended ruefully. Maybe she should have taken her brother up on his offer to stay the night.

Unfortunately tomorrow’s schedule wouldn’t bend to accommodate staying the night in St. Louis, or even her late-night arrival home. She’d still have to be up no later than six to prepare for the Friday lunch and dinner crowd at her restaurant.

Still, the trip had been worth it, she consoled herself. When Brad called earlier in the day to say that he and Sam were at the hospital, she’d whipped off her apron and left the restaurant in the capable hands of Rose and Frances. That was twelve hours ago. But if it had been a long day for Rebecca, it had been an even longer one for Sam, she thought sympathetically. Her sister-in-law had endured a drawn-out, difficult labor. And poor Brad had been a wreck. But at seven thirty-five, when Emily Matthews had at last deigned to make her entrance, her parents’ pain and concern had quickly been supplanted by joy.

Rebecca was happy for Sam and Brad, but love—at least of the romantic variety—wasn’t something she knew much about, she reflected sadly. And she probably never would. Since she opened the restaurant three years ago, there had been little time to indulge in self-pity or dwell on her loneliness, but today, when she’d viewed at such close proximity the circle of love shared by Brad, Sam and their new daughter, it had been very hard to hold back her tears as she cradled the tiny new life in her arms, knowing that it was unlikely she would ever repeat the experience with her own child as a loving husband stood by her side.

At thirty-three, Rebecca was still young enough to have the children she’d always wanted. That wasn’t the problem. The problem was finding a husband with enough patience to deal with her problem. But patience was a virtue that seemed to be in short supply these days. And any man who was remotely interested in her would have to possess an awful lot of patience.

Rebecca sighed again. She hadn’t met a man yet who was willing to date her more than a couple of times without expecting some physical closeness. While Rebecca’s Christian principles didn’t allow for casual intimacy, she realized that at some stage in a developing relationship kissing and touching were appropriate. And expected.

But Rebecca couldn’t handle that. Even if she liked a man, her only emotion when faced with physical contact was fear, not desire. And no man she’d ever met could deal with that. In fact, she’d stopped trying to find one who could. It was easier this way. Less humiliating. Less stressful. But certainly more lonely.

Yet seeing Brad and Sam together these last few months and now watching them with their new daughter, made Rebecca yearn for the same things for herself. Maybe, just maybe, the Lord would send her a man who would be able to fan into life the flame of desire buried deep in her heart, who would patiently teach her how to respond and dispel her fear, she thought with a little surge of hope. Surely there had to be a man out there somewhere who could help her find a way to express the love she’d held captive for so long in her heart!

With sudden resolve, she promised herself that if a man came along who seemed worth the effort, she would make one more attempt to explore a relationship. It wouldn’t be easy, she knew. But maybe, with the Lord’s help, she could find a way to overcome her fear and create her own circle of love. And if nothing else, it was a wonderful fantasy, she thought wistfully.

But right now she better focus on reality, not fantasy, she reminded herself firmly. The fog actually seemed to be growing denser—and more dangerous. It might be better to get off the interstate at the first St. Genevieve exit and take the back road into town, she reasoned.

The exit sign loomed out of the mist unexpectedly, and Rebecca took the exit ramp slowly, with a bizarre sense that the world as she knew it had ceased to exist Carefully she turned onto the deserted secondary road, her headlights struggling to pierce the gloom as she crept along. As she drove through the swirling mist, an eerie feeling swept over her. She knew there were homes scattered along the road, but they weren’t visible tonight She had no points of reference with which to mark her progress, and she felt disoriented and vulnerable.

Rebecca gasped as her headlights suddenly illuminated a figure walking slowly along the road, almost directly in front of her car. She swerved sharply to avoid it, then glanced in the rearview mirror in time to catch one final glimpse of the spectral apparition before it was swallowed up in the gloom.

Good heavens, what had she seen? she wondered in alarm, her heart pounding as adrenaline raced through her veins. She forced herself to take several deep calming breaths and eased back on the accelerator, frowning as she mentally tried to recreate the image that had briefly flashed across her field of vision.

It was a man, she realized, wearing a white dress shirt and a tie, and carrying a suit jacket. Had he been weaving slightly? Or was that just a trick of the swirling fog? she wondered. And why would he be walking along the road at this hour of the night in this weather? Her frown deepened and she lifted her foot off the accelerator even farther, slowing the car to a crawl.

There were only a few possible explanations for the man’s behavior. Either he was a lunatic, he was drunk or he was in trouble.

The first two possibilities frightened her. She wasn’t equipped to deal with them. Not alone on a deserted road. But if he was in trouble or hurt—she thought about the story of the good Samaritan, who came to the assistance of the stranger on the road, and bit her lip thoughtfully. There was definitely a parallel here. Her Christian principles just wouldn’t allow her to turn her back on someone in trouble. If he needed assistance, she had to provide it. But she wasn’t going to take any chances, either. She’d just wait until he appeared and then use her best judgment to determine how to proceed.

Rebecca carefully pulled her car over to the side of the road, double checked that all her doors were locked and that the windows were tightly rolled up, and waited.

Suddenly the man appeared out of the mist immediately to her left, and Rebecca drew a startled breath. He was less than ten feet away, walking right down the center of the road. In the unlikely event that a car appeared, he would be a sitting duck, she realized. But he seemed oblivious to the danger. He also seemed oblivious to her car. In fact, he didn’t seem to notice anything. And he was definitely weaving, she realized. His gait was unsteady, and his head was bowed.

Rebecca lowered her window a mere two inches and called to him. “Excuse me…do you need help?”

The man’s step faltered momentarily, and he raised a hand to his forehead, but after a moment he continued to walk without even looking in her direction.