03_A Family To Call Her Own (30 page)

Zach watched her, trying to discern her thoughts, praying that she loved him enough to commit herself to him—in every way. He’d done everything he could think of to make her feel safe and cherished and loved. Now it was up to her. He tried to remain calm as he waited for her answer, but it was a difficult task when his heart was banging against his rib cage, his respiration had gone haywire and his stomach was twisting painfully.

“Can I have a glass of water, Uncle Zach?”

Both heads swiveled in unison to the little girl who stood in the doorway, clutching her bedraggled Raggedy Ann. Rebecca’s eyes flew to Zach’s in sudden panic. They hadn’t yet discussed how they were going to tell Isabel the news—or when. He seemed equally at a loss.

“Why are you here, Rebecca?” Isabel inquired, rubbing her eyes sleepily. “It’s not morning yet, is it?”

“No, sweetie.”

Isabel walked toward them, looking from one to the other, her face troubled. “Is something wrong?” she asked.

Rebecca turned to Zach and bit her lip, realizing, not for the first time since Isabel’s arrival, that children seemed to possess a sort of sixth sense that made them acutely attuned to nuances of emotion. She lifted her eyebrows helplessly, in a “What should we do?” expression.

With sudden decision Zach patted the sofa beside him, moving far enough away from Rebecca to make room for Isabel.

“Come on in, honey. Rebecca and I have something to tell you.”

Rebecca wasn’t ready for this, she thought in sudden panic. Her emotions were already in shreds. But delaying the inevitable wouldn’t make it any easier, she realized. They had to tell Isabel sooner or later, and the little girl already suspected that something was amiss. They might as well get it over with, she thought, trying to control the painful thudding of her heart.

Isabel climbed onto the couch between them and looked solemnly from one to the other. “Is my papa sick?” she asked, intuitively sensing the source of the gloom in the room.

Zach took her small hand in his and smoothed back her flyaway hair, mussed from sleep. “A friend of your papa’s sent me a note on E-mail tonight. He had some bad news for us. Isabel, honey, it seems that…well, your papa, he—” Zach’s voice broke, and Rebecca stepped in.

“Sweetie, what Uncle Zach is trying to say is that the Lord decided it was…it was time for your papa to go to heaven.”

Isabel stared at her with wide eyes. “You mean he died?”

Rebecca nodded. “Yes.”

Isabel clamped her mouth shut and turned away, clutching her doll more tightly to her chest. “I don’t believe it. My papa wouldn’t leave me alone. He promised he’d always take care of me.”

Rebecca looked at Zach helplessly.

“And he will,” Zach told her gently. “Remember the note he sent you on your birthday? About always being close to you in your heart, even when he was far away? He still is, honey. He still loves you. It was just his time to go to heaven.”

Suddenly Isabel’s lower lip began to quiver, and her eyes filled with tears. “But why did he have to go now?” she asked plaintively, her face bereft.

“I don’t know,” Rebecca confessed gently, blinking to hold back her tears. She slipped her arm lovingly around Isabel’s slim shoulders. “Sometimes it’s hard to understand why God takes people when he does.”

“Maybe Mama was l-lonesome for him,” Isabel offered, her voice quavering. “Maybe God knew she needed him.”

“That might be,” Rebecca agreed.

“But I need him, too!” Isabel cried. “I was supposed to go home next week. Where will I live now?”

Rebecca looked over at Zach. He was watching her carefully, his eyes filled with hope and tenderness and love. In the past few months he had become so much a part of her life that she could no longer imagine it without him. She loved him with all her heart. And she knew that together they could create a beautiful home for each other—and for the precious child that had been entrusted to their care.

Impulsively she reached across the top of the couch and took his hand. His grip was sure and solid and warm. In her heart she suddenly knew, with absolute conviction, that this was meant to be. Her eyes locked on his, reflecting the love and confidence and joy that suddenly overwhelmed her, and when she spoke, her voice was thick with unshed tears. But this time they were tears of happiness.

“You’ll live with us,” she said softly.

She pulled Isabel onto her lap, and Zach instantly closed the distance between them, his eyes never leaving hers as he draped his arm around her shoulders and pulled them both close. Finally he dragged his gaze from Rebecca and transferred it to the child she held.

“Would you like that, Isabel?” Zach asked, his voice gentle and unusually deep.

“You mean…stay here?” she asked.

“Yes. You see, Rebecca and I are going to get married. And we’d like it very much if you would be part of our family.”

Isabel looked up at them. “Are you getting married because of me?”

“No, sweetie,” Rebecca said quickly, before Zach could respond. She looked over at him. “We would have gotten married anyway.” She needed him to know that her decision wasn’t based on compassion for Isabel, but on deep, abiding love for him. A slow smile spread across his face, and she knew he’d gotten her message. “But it will be even better if you come to live with us,” she continued, turning her attention back to the little girl.

Isabel grew silent for a moment. “I think my papa and mama would like me to do that,” she said slowly at last, the tears still welling in her eyes as she turned to look up at Zach. “I heard Papa say once that he wished you had someone like Mama and me to come home to. He said that would make you very happy.” Her eyes were serious as she studied his face. “Now you have me and Rebecca. Does that make you happy, Uncle Zach?”

Zach considered her question for a moment, thought about the odd twists and turns of life, with its jolting combinations of deep tragedy and great joy. In one day he’d lost his treasured friend, found a daughter and won the heart of the woman he adored.

Part of him was sad. Part was joyful. But under it all he suddenly felt a sense of peace, a deep contentment, a feeling of coming home. With a silent prayer of thanks, he reached down and touched Isabel’s nose, then looked into Rebecca’s beautiful, loving eyes and smiled.

“Yes, Isabel. It makes me very happy.” He glanced over at Rebecca, and her throat tightened at the love shining in his eyes. “And it feels good to come home at last.”

“All right, all right, let’s get organized,” Sam declared, planting her hands on her hips as she surveyed the dressing room. “Henry, straighten your boutonniere. Isabel, do you need to go to the little girls’ room? No? Okay. Rebecca, kindly descend from the clouds long enough to sit down so I can put your headpiece on.”

Rebecca smiled dreamily at Sam and did as instructed. Thank goodness
someone
was in charge. She was too wrapped up in being a bride to be of use in any other capacity today.

Rebecca watched in the mirror as Sam securely anchored the wreath of baby’s breath and stephanotis, then fluffed the yards of whisper-soft tulle that drifted down the back. When Sam was at last satisfied, Rebecca stood up, and her sister-in-law turned her to face the full-length mirror.

As she did so, Sam recalled a day two and a half years before when she’d done the same with her best friend, Laura. And she thought about the day two years ago when she’d looked at herself as a bride in this same mirror. Three happy endings in less than three years, she mused. Not a bad record, she concluded with a smile.

“So…what do you think?” she asked Rebecca.

The bride stared at her reflection in awe. Was that really her, that woman with the radiant face and shining eyes dressed all in white? It didn’t seem possible. She gazed at the headpiece of fresh flowers and her cascading waves of russet hair, which tumbled loose and full past her shoulders; the beaded lace bodice of her gown, with its gracious sweetheart neckline; the quaint leg-of-mutton sleeves, which came to a point on the backs of her hands and added a delicate, old-fashioned touch to the gown; the full, satin skirt that swept into a dramatic cathedral-length train.

She truly was the epitome of the traditional bride, Rebecca thought in wonder. It was a role she’d never thought to play, and she relished it with joy and gratitude even as she said a silent prayer of thanks.

“Well?” Sam prompted.

“I guess it’s real, isn’t it?” Rebecca murmured softly, fingering the clouds of tulle that drifted past her shoulders.

Sam laughed. “Kiddo, you better believe it’s real! If you have any doubts, go ask that handsome man who’s anxiously waiting for you at the altar.” She turned to the audience of two watching the proceedings and angled Rebecca toward them. “Ladies and gentlemen, I give you—the future Mrs. Zachary Wright,” she pronounced.

Henry smiled. “I always knew you’d make a beautiful bride, Rebecca. Course, I just about gave up. But the minute I saw Zach, I figured he was the one for you.”

“You look so pretty,” Isabel said in awe, overwhelmed by the proceedings, reaching out a tentative hand to touch the billowing satin skirt.

“Thank you, sweetie.” She nodded toward the brooch that Isabel held carefully in her hand. “Would you like me to pin that on for you?”

“Yes, please.”

Rebecca knelt down. “I’m glad you thought about wearing this today,” she said softly as she secured it to the front of Isabel’s green satin, floor-length dress, an exact duplicate of Sam’s. “It makes me feel like your mama and papa are right here with us.” She gave the little girl a hug, pressing her close.

A sudden change in organ music sent a surge of excitement sweeping over Rebecca, and with one final, encouraging squeeze for Isabel she stood up.

Sam’s discerning gaze swept over her once more, and she gave a satisfied nod. “Perfect,” she declared, reaching for her bouquet and handing Isabel hers. “Do you remember everything we practiced the other night?” she asked the youngster.

“Yes.”

“Good girl.” Sam looked back at Rebecca with a grin and winked. “Knock ’em dead.”

Rebecca watched them leave, then turned to her father with a tremulous smile. “Well, Dad, I guess this is it.”

“Yep.” He cleared his throat and looked down. “I’m mighty happy for you, Becka. Zach is a fine man. I’m only sorry your mother couldn’t be here today.”

“Me, too,” Rebecca concurred softly, her eyes growing misty. “But I have a feeling she’s here in spirit.”

Henry nodded. “Yeah. I do, too. I know she’d offer you some words of wisdom if she could. I’m not much with words myself. But I hope and pray you and Zach have as wonderful a partnership as your mom and I did, honey. Just remember that marriage is like a roller coaster—lots of ups and downs. But if you stay on track, everything ends up just fine. And don’t forget to enjoy the ride.”

“I will, Dad. And thanks. For everything.”

His eyes suddenly glistened suspiciously, and he sniffed.

“Well, honey, you ready for the big walk?”

She took a deep breath and nodded. “It’s time.” She slid her arm through his and reached for her bouquet, smiling at the springlike combination of white roses and pink tulips. When she’d chosen her flowers, she’d known that tulips weren’t traditional for a Thanksgiving wedding. Known they would be out of season. Known the expense would be outrageous.

Known, also, that she had to have them.

As Rebecca and Henry stepped into the vestibule and began the slow march down the aisle, she glanced around at the beaming faces. There were Rose and Frances, in their Sunday best, smiling happily—and just a touch smugly. And Ben, nodding sagely, his bow tie bobbing. Pete was there, too, with Melanie. And Laura and Nick, with their own new daughter, their smiles warm with remembrances of their own special day in this same place. Rebecca felt incredibly blessed to be able to share this day with so many dear family members and friends.

Her gaze shifted to the front. Sam and Isabel watched joyfully as she approached, Isabel looking proud in her “grownup” dress, Sam giving her a knowing wink. Brad was there, too, waiting to perform the ceremony that would join his sister and Zach for life. He smiled at her now, a smile of understanding filled with deep affection and happiness. She returned it, thanking him with her eyes for all that he had been to her through the years—a brother, certainly, but even more than that, a friend.

And then her eyes went to the man who had become the center of her universe.

Rebecca’s breath caught in her throat as she gazed at him. He looked incredibly handsome in his tux, she thought. Strong. Solid. Steadfast. He had the kind of looks that would make heads turn in any setting, she acknowledged appreciatively.

But it was his eyes that held her spellbound. As Henry placed her hand in Zach’s, her husband-to-be smiled down at her. For a long moment they looked at each other, two hearts touching, joining in a timeless way that only those in love can understand. His eyes—tender, yearning, caressing, filled with love and warmth and joy—told her more clearly than words what was in his heart.

And as they stepped forward to recite the vows that would unite them as man and wife, she pledged in her heart to treasure and cherish this wonderful man all the days of her life. For he had already given her what the Good Book rightly described as the greatest thing of all—a deep, abiding love that would last for all time.

Epilogue

Six months later

R
ebecca opened her eyes slowly, savoring the sensation of being totally relaxed and at peace. She sighed contentedly as she gazed out of the window at the lush May greenery, enjoying the gentle touch of the warm breeze that drifted lightly over her. Only the melodic song of a bird broke the stillness, and the early-morning light cast a golden glow over the landscape. Since Isabel was spending the Memorial Day weekend with Henry to celebrate the end of the school year, Rebecca had the whole day to share with Zach. Her lips curved into a smile, and a delicious tingle of anticipation swept over her as she turned toward him.