A Love Worth Waiting For and Heaven Knows (17 page)

Granddad. Julie ached with happiness for him. He looked dashing and dear, as he always did, even if he did fidget in the tight-fitting tux. Anyone could see the bride and groom were perfect for each other. Granddad's and Nora's love was the real thing.

Now and then fairy tales
did
happen.

When Granddad kissed his bride, the entire congregation applauded.

The sun chose that moment to smile through the stained-glass windows, casting bright hues over the bride and groom, as if to remind everyone in the church that love was God's greatest gift.

 

Time for plan B.
If
he could sneak out of the receiving line. Noah shook the mayor's hand, who planted his feet and looked about as hard to move as a cement barricade in the middle of a freeway.

“Mr. Ashton, pleased as punch to hear you're gonna be staying in our town. Prettiest piece that Montana has to offer. Well, we like to think so. After what you did, rescuing the little Corey girl from the creek, why, you're a member of this community already.”

“Oh, yes, you may be from the big city,” Mrs. Corey chimed from her place in line behind the mayor. “But you're one of us now.”

Noah took the woman's words for what they were—a sincere compliment. He intended to live here, close to his grandmother, forever. And since Julie just happened to live here, well, didn't that work out perfectly?

“How are you holding up, son?” Harold asked, after the mayor had finally moved on and was shaking Nora's hand in congratulations. “I hear from my bride that you're still not up to snuff. Recovery takes time.”

“I'm fine.” He still tired easily, but the fatigue was slowly improving, and he wouldn't let it stop him. He had a new chance at life, and he didn't intend to wait. He spotted Julie at the gift table, talking to his sister. Now would be the perfect chance to—

“Thanks for your confidence in me,” Harold said, his voice gruff, looking down at his shoes. “I've done a fair job with my investments. I'll do even better with your grandmother's.”

“I trust you.” Harold was a good man. Okay, so Noah had been wrong—he could admit his mistakes. He knew without a doubt that Harold would treat his grandmother right.

“My dear grandson.” Nanna caught him before he could break away from the crowd. “What a blessing you are to me. I'm so very thankful you are here with us today.”

“You are a blessing to me, too, Nanna.” He
kissed her cheek. “Did I tell you what a beautiful bride you are?”

“Oh, my dear boy. It's so good to have you here.” Nanna sparkled with happiness. “And as it happens, there goes Julie. I wonder where she's going? Maybe she could use some help with something. You had best go check, young man. Hurry along, now.”

There was no fooling his grandmother.

Several people stopped him on the way to the door. To welcome him to town and to say that they sure appreciated how he helped out that day, which seemed so long ago now, when the little Corey girl needed help. He'd pitched in like a true Montanan, they said.

He brushed off their words, but appreciated their welcome. This little town was already beginning to feel like home. Now, if he could convince Julie of that, he'd be the happiest man on the planet.

He bolted out the door, but he couldn't see where she went. He tried the set of double doors that led outside. There was no sign of her in the snowy parking lot. The church, then? He strode down the hall, past the reception and into the quiet side entrance.

There she was, sitting in the front row, arms wrapped around her middle, gazing up at the sparkling stained-glass window. The giant cross glowed, as if God were giving him reassurance. This was the right path he was walking.

He gathered his courage, taking his time, searching for the right words. “The wedding was beautiful, wasn't it?”

She looked up, startled. She must have been lost in thought and didn't hear him approach. “It was lovely.”

“
You
are lovely.”

She covered her face with her hands. “I can't do this. Please just leave me alone.”

“Why would I do that? The woman I plan to marry is hurting.” He eased onto the bench beside her. “What can I say to make you believe?”

She bolted off the pew, her dress rustling around her. “Everyone is talking about how you're moving to town. Some say you'll stay. Others figure you'll be here for a few years, then head back to the city where you belong.”

“And you think that's what I'll do. That a man who built a company that netted a half-trillion dollars in profits last year is someone who doesn't know what he wants. He can't make a good decision. He doesn't know where to invest his time and his effort.”

“Maybe that man has had a scare, and he's evaluating his life. Maybe he's reaching for whatever will make him feel secure or happy.”

“I have my faith for that. When I make a commitment, I mean it.” He stood and gently turned her, so he could see the anguish on her face. “I love you truly.”

“I love you, but I—”

“No buts.” He kissed her gently, slanting his mouth over hers, letting her feel how he cherished her. “I've been unhappy for a long time. I want you to understand that. These changes I'm making aren't rash. I'm healthy and I'm grateful for it, and I realized when I woke up after my surgery that I had a debt to pay back to God. To live this life He has given me the right way, with love in my heart. I can't do that without you, Julie.”

How could she believe him? How could she risk her heart this one last time? “No, I want a man who is right for me and my life. I want a marriage that lasts, not one torn apart by a midlife crisis or something when you decide you miss the excitement of a big city.”

“I see.” He was patient, his touch loving as he traced her bottom lip with the pad of his thumb. “Wasn't it you who said that the city was wasted on me? Julie, all I ever did was work. I'm tired of meetings and business trips and jet lag and irate attorneys yelling at me all day.”

“I can sympathize with those poor attorneys….”

There
was the Julie he loved. The one who would keep his life interesting and keep him laughing. “I want to be happy. I want to marry you.”

“You keep saying that.” Tears filled her eyes, perfect, silver tears that shimmered and fell just for him to catch with his thumb.

“I'm going to keep saying it until you believe me. If it takes one thousand times, then fine. We have all day. If you need to hear it a million, then fine, the church has heat. We can stay here all night. But understand this. I'm never going to make you stand in front of that altar by yourself. I'm never going to make you regret saying the vows that will make us husband and wife.”

Julie's eyes were blurring, so it was hard to see the diamond ring when he slipped it on her hand. The band was cool platinum and as soft as a dream. The diamonds flickered and glittered like a thousand perfect rainbows. Promises that Noah intended to keep. He truly did love her.

Peace filled her, as gentle as the sunlight streaming through the windows, as reverent as the silence in the church. The candles glowed, and faint music lilted in from the reception room down the hall. God had led her here to this man and to this moment. She could
feel
it, deep in her soul.

“I'm standing here, in front of God, and I'm asking you again.” He brushed away the last of her tears. “Will you marry me?”

“Yes.” More joy than she had never known filled her, slow and sure, as Noah pulled her into his arms and kissed her long and tenderly.

Thank You, Lord,
she prayed, burying her face in Noah's shoulder, holding him tight, holding
him for keeps. They didn't need to speak. They stood in the peaceful sanctuary, with the sunlight and candlelight and their love that would last forever.

Dear Reader,

When I was writing my first book for Steeple Hill Love Inspired,
Heaven Sent,
I fell in love with Hope's brother, Noah. I could sense in him a great loneliness, and I so wanted him to find his happily-ever-after. I was thrilled when I got the opportunity to tell his story. I expected a charming billionaire kind of a guy, and instead met a man of great faith, whose strength of spirit never wavered, even when facing uncertainty, pain and a possible terminal illness.

Noah reminded me of something important. Our time here is precious. There are blessings all around us in this incredible world. I hope you take the time out of your busy life to enjoy them in love and thanksgiving.

Dear friends, since God so loved us,
we also ought to love one another.

—1
John
4:11

T
he warmth of the early-spring sun felt like a promise. Alexandra Sims shut the door of her ancient VW, careful of the loose window, and stared at the little town. She could see all of it from where she stood, with shops on one side of the road. On the other, railroad tracks paralleled the town, and beyond, new green fields shimmered.

She'd grown up in a town like this one along the coast of Washington State. So small, her high school graduating class had been thirty-eight. Maybe because of bad memories, she didn't like small towns much. They'd never brought her luck.

But today she felt luck was in the air, and that made her step lighter as she strolled along the cement sidewalk. She'd pulled off the interstate to fill her gas tank and, since she was here, maybe
she'd stop to eat lunch and do a little shopping. This was as good a place as any.

This little town of Manhattan was truly no different from the other small Montana towns she'd passed through since recently she'd thrown what little she needed into her car and fled in the dark of the night.

Few of the buildings were new, many dating from the fifties or earlier when agriculture belonged to the family farmer and not huge corporations. The people who lived here took pride in their town—the streets were clean, the sidewalks swept and not a speck of litter could be found anywhere.

Sparkling store windows tossed her reflection back at her as she halted beneath a blue-striped awning. Corey's Hardware, the sign proclaimed in bright blue paint.

She pushed her sunglasses onto the crown of her head and stepped through the doorway. A bell jangled overhead.

“Hello, there,” called a polite male voice the instant her sneakers hit the tile floor. “What can I do for you?”

Whoever belonged to that molasses-rich voice wasn't in sight. Head-high shelves of merchandise blocked the way.

“Where are your ropes?” she called out.

“To your right, all the way against the wall.” A
handsome athlete of a man came into view behind the long, old-fashioned wooden counter.

She caught a glimpse of dark black hair tumbling over a high intelligent forehead. Brooding hazel eyes, a sharp straight blade of a nose and a strong jaw that looked about as soft as granite. Definitely a remote, unreachable type.

She retreated to the far wall, where everything from braided hemp to thin nylon rope could be found. Lucky thing, because she found exactly what she needed. What she didn't find was something to cut it with.

“How much do you need?” he asked in that voice that could melt chocolate.

“Three yards.”

He was at her side, taller than she'd first thought. He was well over six feet, and while he wasn't lean, he wasn't heavily muscled, either. He didn't have much to say, which was fine with her. Really nice and handsome men made her nervous and tongue-tied. Probably because she wasn't used to them—and great guys had always seemed out of her reach.

As gallant as a knight of old, he measured the thin nylon cord for her, giving her an extra foot, before cutting the end neatly and looping it into a tidy coil for her. “Anything else?”

“That should do it.”

He was very efficient—she had to give him that.

“I'll ring you up front.” All business, he hardly
glanced at her as he tucked away the small pocket-knife he'd used to cut the rope. “Let me guess. You're going camping?”

“Something like that,” she hedged. “I had a tent disaster last night, so I need to repair the main nylon cord.”

“Been there.” He led the way down the aisle of kitchen cabinet handles in every size and color, his stride long and powerful. “Figured you for a tourist. This valley's small enough that sooner or later, you meet everyone in it.”

She'd grown up in a town like that, but she kept the information to herself. Her past was behind her and she intended to keep it that way. “This part of the country is beautiful.”

“Have you been down to Yellowstone?” He was only making polite conversation as he punched buttons on the cash register.

“Not yet.”

“The campsites aren't booked up this time of year, so you don't need reservations.” He slipped the rope into a small blue plastic bag. “That will be two seventy-one. If you have your tent in your car, you can bring it in and I'll repair it for you. Free of charge. Company policy.”

His offer surprised her. She stopped digging through her purse for exact change to stare at him. A familiar panic clamped around her chest. Patrick was hundreds of miles away and he had no idea
where she was, but this is how he'd affected her. Even a store clerk's courtesy frightened her, when there was no reason for it.

The phone rang, and the clerk answered it. “Corey's Hardware. John, here.” He spoke in the same friendly voice to whomever was on the other end of the phone.

John, huh? He looked like a John. Dependable, practical, rock solid.

There was no danger here. She had to remember that not every man was like Patrick. She knew it—now, if only her heart would remember it, she'd be fine.

Alexandra relaxed and bent to dig a penny from the bottom of her coin purse.

“Well, now, washers are tricky things, Mrs. Fletcher,” John drawled, tucking the receiver against his shoulder. “Maybe I ought to come by this afternoon and put in the right size for you, free of charge, except for the washer, of course. That'd be the best way to get the job done right.”

See what a nice man this John was? He helped all sorts of people. There was no reason at all to feel uneasy. She watched as he swept her coins into his palm as he listened to Mrs. Fletcher.

Nodding, he dropped the money into the cash register till. “Sure thing. I'll give you a call before long.”

He tore off the receipt and slipped it into the bag.
“I appreciate your business,” he told her. “Bring in your tent if you want.”

“Thanks.” She could do it herself. She zipped her purse closed and reached for the little blue plastic sack. The last thing she wanted to do was to rely on anyone else ever again. She'd learned that lesson the hard way.

A note pinned to the back wall behind the counter caught her attention. Help Wanted. Full-Time Position.

The rest of the printing was too small to read as she swept past. A full-time position, right there, posted for her to see. She'd been praying for just this sort of an opportunity.

Maybe she should ask about it. Surely it wouldn't hurt.

She took a look around at the neat shelving, the tidy merchandise and the polished old wood floor. This wasn't what she had in mind. She'd been a cashier long ago, and she wouldn't mind being one again, but working alongside a man—no, no matter how nice he seemed. Not after what she'd been through.

“Do you need anything else?” John asked from behind the counter, polite, clearly a good salesman.

“No, thanks.” She grabbed the doorknob, the bell jangled overhead and she tumbled onto the sidewalk. A cool push of wind breezed along her bare arms.

The advertisement troubled her. Was it coincidence that she'd spotted it, or more?

Unsure, Alexandra unlocked her car door, stowed the rope on the back floor behind the driver's seat and grabbed her hand-knit cardigan from the back. The soft wool comforted her as it always did. Pocketing her keys, she continued down the cracked sidewalk toward the grocery at the end of the block.

The store bustled with activity as weekend shoppers chatted in the aisles and in the checkout lines at the front. Feeling like a visitor in a foreign land, Alexandra headed to the dairy section. The refrigeration cases were the old-fashioned kind, heavy glass doors with handles, reminding her of the small-town store where she used to shop as a girl.

This was not the kind of place where she wanted to live, she told herself as she selected a small brick of sharp cheddar that was marked as the weekly special. She'd left small-town life forever three days after graduating from high school and had never looked back.

Then again, living in a bigger city hadn't exactly worked out well, either.

She wove around two women who looked to be about her age, chatting in the aisle, with their toddlers belted into brimming grocery carts, and felt a pang deep in her chest. What would it be like to live those women's lives? Alexandra found a bag of day-old rolls that still felt as soft as fresh.

The Help Wanted sign in the hardware store kept troubling her. It was frightening not knowing what was ahead of her. Worse, not knowing if she would be able to build a new life. She had to trust that if the job at the hardware store was what God wanted for her, then He would find a way to tell her for certain.

“Why don't you go ahead of me?” A woman with a small girl in tow gave Alexandra a smile. “I have a full cart, and you have only a few things.”

“Are you sure?” When the woman merely nodded, Alexandra thanked her and stepped in line.

She'd almost forgotten what small towns were like—the friendliness that thrived in them. A coziness that felt just out of her reach—as if she could never be a part of it. But she enjoyed listening to the checker ask an elderly woman about her new grandbaby.

Everyone seemed to know everything about a person in a small town, she reflected as she placed her cheese and rolls on the conveyer belt.

Why, if she actually were to interview for the job and got it, she'd be easy to locate. If she stayed here, she would probably be known as the new woman in town, even ten years from now.

No, if she took a job anywhere, it had to be in a larger city where she could blend in unnoticed and be harder to track down.

“Did you find everything all right?” the checker asked.

“Yes.”

“That will be three eighty-three, please.”

Alexandra pulled the fold of bills from her jeans pocket and peeled off four singles.

“Are you enjoying our countryside?”

“It's very beautiful.”

“This time of year we don't see too many tourists and Yellowstone is about ready to open some of its entrances, but I think it's the best time to sightsee.”

Alexandra hardly knew what to say as the checker pressed change into her palm. “Have a good day.”

Even the bagger was friendly as she handed Alexandra a small paper sack.

Taking her purchases, she headed for the electronic doors. Everywhere she looked, she saw people chatting, friends greeting one another, and heard snatches of cheerful conversations.

After the stress and noise of living in a city, she liked breathing in the fresh-scented air. It was so quiet, the anxiety that seemed to weigh her down lifted a little and she took a deep breath. Longing filled her as she headed back to her car. A yearning for the kind of life she'd never known.

Fishing the keys from her pocket, she watched the woman from the checkout line lead the way to a minivan parked in the lot. How content she looked, carrying her small daughter on her hip, opening the back for the box boy who pushed her cart full of groceries. Full of dinners to be made.
No doubt she'd drive to a tidy little house not far from here, greet her husband when he came home from work and never know what loneliness was.

That life seemed impossible to Alexandra. Wishful thinking, that's what it was. Maybe, someday—if the good Lord were willing—she'd have a life like that, too.

In the meantime, she had a lot troubling her. She grabbed her water bottle from the front seat and tucked it under her arm. Clouds were moving in overhead, but the sun still shone as brightly as ever. The weather would hold for a lunchtime picnic.

When she spied a little ice-cream stand through the alley, she headed toward it. At the far end of the gravel parking lot, there was a patch of mown grass shaded by old, reaching maples.

Perfect. There were picnic tables beneath the trees, worse for the wear, but functional and swept clean. No one was around, so she chose the most private one. The wood was rough against her arms as she spread out her rolls and cheese.

A car halted at the ice-cream stand's window. As the driver ordered, she heard the murmur of pleasant voices like friends greeting one another.

Alone, Alexandra bowed her head in prayer and gave thanks for her many blessings.

 

John Corey knew the look of someone hurting. Maybe because he knew something about that. For
whatever reason, he couldn't get the woman out of his mind as the minute hand slowly crept up the face of the twenty-year-old clock his uncle had hung on that wall decades before.

She was beautiful, no doubt about that. Not in a flamboyant, look-at-me sort of way, but pretty in a quiet, down-deep sort of way. And those wounded-doe eyes of hers made him wonder what had become of her. She hadn't been back to let him repair her tent, and that disappointed him.

Only because he wanted to do what he could, that was all. Helping was sort of his calling. Sure, he owned a hardware store in a little town that was so small, a person could blink twice and miss the entire downtown. But being part of a community meant being aware of its needs.

He'd gotten in the habit of helping out where he could, fixing eighty-year-old Mrs. Fletcher's outside faucet, for instance, because a widow on a set budget might not be able to afford a plumber.

He'd also come to believe that the Lord gave everyone a job in this world. And that his job was doing what he could. Like the beautiful young woman—there he went again, thinking about her. She'd looked as if she had the weight of the world on her slim shoulders, and, in a way, it was like looking at a reflection of himself.

Some might say her problems weren't any of his business, and they might have a point. But what if
she did need help? What if there was something he could do? Lord knew he had a debt to pay this world, and he'd seen her look at the Help Wanted sign he'd posted behind the counter. Did she need a job? But before he could ask her, she'd bolted through the door and was gone with a jangle of the overhead bell and a click of the knob.