Loving Hearts Read online

  “Time!” His voice bounced off her apartment wall.

  Rachel flinched at his anger.

  “I’ve given you enough time to build a pyramid, Rachel. Look.” He pulled his shoulder from the door frame and walked to her side, resting one hand on the chair back, the other on the upholstered arm. “I don’t want to set up competition between your father and me. I’m happy if you love us both. But—”

  “I do love you both,” she said, pressing her hand against his. “I don’t want to choose between you. I’m putting this in God’s hands. Let God tell me what to do.”

  Jeff straightened, his back as rigid as a tin soldier. “Are you crazy? Have you lost your mind?”

  Startled, she felt her heart hammer against her breastbone, and she lifted her hand to press against the thunder in her chest.

  “When do you expect God will send you a letter?” He folded his arms across his chest. “Or will His voice break through the sky. ‘Rachel Downing,’” Jeff boomed, his voice deepened, “‘I am the Lord and you have My permission to wear Jeff’s engagement ring.’” He cupped his hand around his ear, his face mottled. “I’m listening, Rachel, and I don’t hear God saying a word.”

  Rachel clapped her hands over her ears to block his contempt. “Please don’t do this, Jeff.” She sat a moment, her heart crying out in prayer. Unexpected, a sense of calm washed over her along with a new realization. She rose and stepped toward Jeff, filled with purpose.

  “Please listen.” Her hand played with the ring as she riveted her gaze to his. “I can’t ask you to understand my father…or my faith. I know you’re a Christian, but apparently not one who feels the same connection to God’s will as I do.”

  Jeff’s eyes shifted nervously, and his shoulders sagged as he returned his focus to her face. Rachel sensed he wanted to speak, but he didn’t. He listened.

  “I have to do what my faith directs me to do. I have to give this problem to God. I’m beginning to think that the Lord thinks we aren’t meant for each other.”

  “You what?” He jammed his fist against the door frame. “I don’t get it.”

  “We’re different, Jeff. Our faith is different. I feel in my heart I love you, but I want our marriage to last. At this point, it can’t.”

  He stepped forward and captured her face in his hands, standing nose-to-nose. “You’re telling me you don’t think we can make it? You know better, Rachel.”

  Tears misted his eyes, and Rachel’s chest tightened with a tourniquet of despair. She slipped the ring from her finger and clutched it in her hands.

  He lowered his hands from her face, his own expression desperate and solemn. “So…I’ll wait. I can’t lose you.”

  She captured his hand and dropped the ring into his palm. “I can’t keep this now. Not unless things are settled.” She prayed things would be better. That Jeff would back off and let God handle their problem.

  Jeff’s gaze dropped to the ring, and his mouth gaped. He drew up his shoulders and moved back, his eyes focused on his palm. “If you do this, Rachel, it’s over. There’s no coming back.” He lifted his gaze to hers, searching her eyes as if hoping she would change her mind.

  The words knocked her breath from her lungs. She studied him in disbelief. “You can’t mean that.”

  “I do.” His expression held defiance, but beneath it Rachel saw a glimmer of fear.

  She let the weight of her decision settle in her thoughts. Rachel had no other choice. Only when she knew for certain—only when God gave her comfort and a solution—would she take back the ring…but Jeff had decreed their destiny. It had ended.

  A shroud of silence hung over them as they stared at each other. Tentacles of pain moved through her, and her heart plunged as Jeff turned away and left the apartment.

  Grinning, Ian watched Esther maneuver her way toward a booth at the Autumn Spice Craft Show. His spirit had soared since the day on the boat when he’d admitted his feelings. He’d wanted to confess he loved her, but he hadn’t known what to expect from her. Her response had been much more than he’d hoped.

  “Look at this silk arrangement,” Esther said, lifting the basket of copper-colored flowers toward Ian. “Picture this on my end table.”

  Jostled by a shopper, Ian shifted to the side and eyed the bouquet. “I thought you were Christmas shopping.”

  She tilted her head and shrugged. “I’ll gift wrap it and give it to myself.”

  Why didn’t he discourage her and then come back to buy it? The ploy seemed too complicated. “Sure. Buy it. Everyone deserves at least one gift he buys himself at Christmas.”

  He’d done it himself. Bought something he longed to have as his own Christmas gift. Not living close to his family, Ian had often missed the excitement of decorating a tree and anticipating gifts. He sent packages to his sister’s children. Sometimes he visited at the holidays, but always felt as if he were in the way. They had their own friends and activities, and he didn’t want to add a third wheel to their holiday fun.

  But this year would be different. A warm, cozy feeling settled in his chest. He and Esther would spend time together, and—if it weren’t too soon—he’d thought he might propose at Christmas. The possibility shot anxious exhilaration to his toes.

  “Maybe I’ll wait,” she said, returning the silk arrangement to the display and linking her arm in his. “I want to look at holiday wreaths. Something for Rachel’s door. She doesn’t have anything to hang there.”

  “Speaking of Rachel, how’s she doing?” Ian asked, curious that Esther hadn’t mentioned worrying about her lately. “Are things better between her and your dad?”

  Esther slowed, then halted while passersby jostled around them. “Now that you mention it, I haven’t spoken with her in over a week. That’s strange.”

  He eyed her face, seeing it fill with concern, and Ian hoped nothing had happened. Esther’s guilt over the charade had set her on edge, and he didn’t want to deal with any more repercussions. “Maybe she’s just busy.”

  “Maybe,” Esther said, “but she usually calls anyway. She talked with Dad and said she wouldn’t be in church last Sunday.” A frown settled on her face. “I should have called her to find out why.”

  “You can telephone her when you get home.”

  She nodded. “Right. Remind me, would you?”

  “I’ll try,” he said, knowing in his heart he didn’t want to remind her. An uneasy feeling dampened his spirit. If something unpleasant had happened between Rachel and Jeff, Esther would be in the doldrums. When Esther felt stressed, Ian seemed to feel tense himself, and tonight they’d been invited for dinner at the Somervilles’. He’d hoped it would be an enjoyable evening.

  Ian glanced at his wristwatch. “What time do you think we’ll get out of here?” He’d never seen such a huge craft show. It filled every hallway and room of the St. Patrick Center, and they’d been there at least an hour already.

  “I don’t know. Why?”

  “I want to change before we go to Philip’s tonight,” he said.

  Her expression changed as she was jolted with a thought. “A hostess gift. That’s what I need. Help me think of something for them.”

  “Esther, they aren’t expecting a gift. I’ll pick up a bouquet at the florist, if you’d like.”

  Searching the displays they passed, she shook her head. “No. I want this to be special…and something from me.”

  He grinned. “Feeling guilty?”

  She expelled a soft chuckle. “Maybe a little. You should have heard the things I imagined about Jemma when I thought that was you and her in the photograph.”

  “Don’t tell me. I have my own memories to deal with.”

  “I suppose you do,” she said, releasing his arm and sliding her hand into his with a gentle squeeze.

  The closeness of them walking together side by side, their hands joined, had become a gift for which Ian felt grateful. He thanked God often for giving him the courage to admit his feelings and for Esther’s accept
ing reaction to his confession. He squeezed her hand in return, relishing the tenderness between them.

  At one booth after another, Esther stopped to eye the items and to weigh her decisions. If Ian had had his way, he’d have sat in the snack section and waited, but Esther insisted he follow along to offer his opinion. He settled into the role, sensing this would be part of his relationship with Esther. Sharing everything.

  “Burgundy and gold,” she said, holding a door wreath in front of her with one finger. “I love the colors.”

  “Nice,” he said. He’d said that about four others, and he hoped she wouldn’t notice.

  “I think Rachel will like it,” Esther said, handing the gift to the woman behind the table, then digging into her wallet.

  “Me, too,” Ian said, relieved that particular purchase had been settled.

  With the wreath in a large shopping bag, Esther led him toward a stained glass booth. A backlit screen displayed a variety of sun catchers. Her attention seemed drawn to a beveled glass cross. The bright blue sparkled in the light.

  “For Dad,” she said. “He loves looking out his windows, and I think this cross is perfect.”

  Without asking his opinion, she paid for the gift, and they moved along until she found the perfect hostess gift. After some time, Ian got antsy and reminded Esther of their dinner plans.

  Surprised, she suggested they leave, and when they arrived at her house, she climbed out loaded down with packages in both arms.

  “Need help?” he asked.

  “No. You go ahead. I’ll see you in an hour.”

  He gave her a wave and backed down the driveway. As he did, he remembered he was supposed to remind her to call Rachel. Though he could have gone back, he guided the car to the street, feeling guilty but hopeful that she’d forgotten and he wouldn’t have to deal with any Rachel issues tonight.

  Esther stood near the window waiting for Ian to return. She’d just finished dressing and knew he would arrive any minute. She could count on his being on time.

  The past few days she’d enjoyed spending time with him. Since they’d talked in earnest about their feelings, she no longer wondered how he felt about her. He’d admitted he enjoyed her company just as she enjoyed his.

  They’d declared a real friendship, and he’d kissed her. The kiss seemed to signal more than a friendly relationship. She’d enjoyed every minute of his intimate caress, but did it constitute something more serious? She wasn’t so sure about that.

  Years ago she’d declared herself a single woman for a lifetime, but now her behavior suggested something different—a new yearning for companionship. She’d prayed to the Lord to give her confidence in herself and in His bidding.

  When she thought about it, her heart reacted as if it were love, and Esther longed to make their relationship a lasting one. But her thoughts and feelings left her feeling vulnerable, and Esther feared that if Ian didn’t feel as strongly, she had opened herself for hurt and grief.

  Lights flashed across the driveway, and Ian pulled in. Without waiting, Esther grabbed the hostess gift, locked the house and hurried to the car.

  During the short ride they talked about the resort and Philip mainly, but Esther’s mind had stuck on a question. Was her relationship with Ian heading anywhere?

  At Bay Breeze she and Ian stepped into the elevator and rode up to the penthouse. Carrying the gift bag, Esther stepped across the threshold and faced Jemma.

  Seeing the woman closely, Esther could understand Ian’s earlier attraction to her. Jemma extended her slender arm beyond her protruding belly where Philip’s first child lay, warm and safe, and offered them her hand.

  “It’s good to see you, Jemma,” Ian said. “This is Esther Downing.”

  “I’m glad to meet you,” Esther said with a firm handshake.

  Jemma’s generous mouth curved to a gentle smile, and she looked at Esther with green eyes the color of moss. “Welcome. I’m so glad you could come.”

  “Thank you,” Esther said, feeling Ian’s hand on her arm, guiding her forward. “This is such a lovely place. I was here for the Fourth of July celebration.”

  Jemma wagged her head. “So many people. I can never do them all justice.”

  “It was a wonderful party,” Esther said, extending the gift bag. “Here’s a little something for you.”

  Jemma lifted her hand to her chest. “For us? Oh, you shouldn’t have.” With an appreciative look, she accepted the gift. “Thank you.”

  “Ian and I were at the Autumn Spice Craft Show today and I thought you’d like it.”

  “I’m sure we will. Have a seat. Please,” Jemma said, motioning them into the great room and setting the package on an end table.

  Tonight the French doors were closed against a cool northern breeze, but Esther recalled the wonderful view of the lake. She crossed to a love seat and Ian followed.

  Jemma gave them an apologetic smile. “Philip is in the kitchen, concocting a fruit punch. I’ll send him out.”

  “Punch sounds good,” Ian said.

  Jemma’s soft-soled shoes padded across the floor. When she vanished, Ian slid his arm around Esther. “What are you thinking?” he asked.

  “I can see why you found her attractive.”

  “Jealous?” He stroked her cheek with his free hand.

  “Should I be?”

  His chuckle said no, but before he could speak, Philip strode into the room with a tray of stemmed glasses. “Greetings. I was whipping up drinks.”

  “We heard,” Ian said.

  Philip extended the tray, and Esther took a fluted glass. The fruity aroma drifted from the tray.

  Behind Philip, Jemma hurried in and set a platter of hors d’oeuvres and cocktail napkins on the nearby coffee table. “Help yourself,” she said. “Dinner will be ready shortly.”

  Philip leaned forward. “By the way, Esther, I’ve studied your report. Found it fascinating and very creative. It’s been very helpful in my decision making for next year. In fact, let’s drink a toast.” Philip lifted his glass. “To the future.”

  “To your new baby,” Esther added.

  Jemma gave her an appreciative smile before sipping the punch.

  Esther lifted her glass and took a drink of the unique fruit juice blend. The creamy taste of coconut created a tantalizing flavor with the citrus mixture. “Delicious.”

  “Philip doesn’t want people to know he reads cookbooks as a hobby.”

  Their chuckles were sprinkled around the room, and as Jemma turned to find a seat, she spotted the gift. “Look, Philip,” she said, lifting the bag from the table. “Esther’s brought us a present.”

  “A gift? That was thoughtful,” he said. “Should we open it?”

  “Yes. Please,” Esther said.

  They waited as Jemma pulled the tissue from the bag and unwrapped a small watercolor. She released a surprised gasp as she turned the painting to Philip. “It’s beautiful, and so fitting here.”

  Philip eyed the scene—a sailboat with a wash of sunset on the horizon. “We have a perfect spot for it.” He rose and placed the painting against the wall near the French doors. “It’s a small area, and we’ve had nothing to hang here.”

  “It looks lovely,” Jemma said. “Thank you so much.” She bent and kissed Esther’s cheek.

  “You’re welcome,” Esther said, pleased that her hosts liked the painting.

  Jemma turned toward the coffee table and picked up napkins and the platter. “Let me get you started on these,” she said, handing Esther a napkin and explaining the choices.

  “I’m so glad Ian brought you along. Philip mentioned you two were working on a research project together, and it made me chuckle.”

  Esther felt Ian stiffen beside her as she selected appetizers.

  “I don’t know if Ian told you,” she continued. “Philip had us running here and there a while back, working on a project together.”

  Esther gave a slight nod, fearing what she might say next.

&nbs
p; “My dearest Philip—” she gave him a smile as she replaced the napkins and platter onto the table “—wanted me to find a husband. I think Ian was his first choice.”

  Ian squirmed beside her. “I don’t know about—”

  “She’s right, Ian. I thought I was too old for Jemma. You were perfect—a good employee, a man I trusted, one I thought would be a good husband and a gentleman.”

  “Thanks, Philip, but—”

  “And look at us now,” Jemma said, patting her tummy.

  “Congratulations,” Esther said, hoping to veer the topic to children and families and away from Ian.

  “Philip thought he was too old to be a father, but God and I thought different.”

  Her comment captured Esther’s attention. She understood. Esther had made a life decision, giving credit to God, and now she wondered if her decision to be single had been her own distorted thinking—her own self-defense.

  “So often—just like Philip did—we decide things about ourselves. After Philip’s first wife died, he’d determined marriage was out of the question.” She moved beside him and ran her hand across his shoulder. “I’d thought the same for myself. One bad marriage was enough for me, but God had different ideas.”

  “That’s exactly the way it happened,” Philip said, raising his hand and placing it on hers, which rested on his shoulder. “Here I was pushing her toward Ian and God was pushing me toward Jemma.”

  To Esther’s surprise, Ian began to chuckle. She felt his rigid body relax beside her, and the room quieted, everyone waiting for him to explain.

  “Thanks for getting all this out in the open, Jemma. Every time I see you, my mind sails back to that whole situation. Even though I wasn’t sure whether our relationship would ever go anywhere, I still felt rejected when you dumped me for Philip.”

  His smile assured Esther he meant what he said.

  “I know,” Jemma said. “And I felt guilty about the whole situation. I loved Philip from the start and felt rejected by him, pushing me away.”