03_The Unexpected Gift (18 page)

Grant put the piece of paper on the table and moved toward her. Once more he took her hand and led her outside to the deck, where they paused to gaze out over the azure expanse of the sea. And then he turned to her, took her left hand in his, and slipped the ring over her finger. For a moment she looked down at it, the sparkle dazzling in the brilliant morning sun. When she looked back up at Grant, she saw the same dazzling sparkle in his eyes, and knew it was reflected in hers, as well.

“I love you, Morgan,” he said.

“I love you, too,” she whispered.

Then he leaned toward her to seal their engagement with a kiss that hinted at what was to come. A kiss that promised sweet tomorrows and pledged their love assurely as the vows they would soon exchange before God. A kiss that told her she had come home at last. For always.

And as she lost herself in his embrace, Morgan sent a silent, heartfelt message to the woman whose bequest had been the catalyst for her new life, a life in which her work would always be important, but never at the expense of the things that really mattered. Faith. Family. And love. Most especially love.

Thank you, Aunt Jo.

Morgan gave the ad layouts she was reviewing for a client in Portland a final scrutiny. As usual, Kit had done a stellar job on the production, and Morgan knew the client would be pleased. Satisfied, she set them aside and glanced at her watch. Grant should be here any minute.

The sudden crunch of gravel from the front drive announced his arrival, and Morgan grinned. You could always count on Grant to be on time. In fact, you could count on him to keep any promise he made. How blessed she was to have him in her life!

She rose to greet him, pulling open the door just as he reached up to knock, and found herself in his arms. When he released her after a kiss, she smiled up at him, her hands still looped around his neck. “Now that’s what I call a ‘hello!’”

He grinned. “I could do even better if I wasn’t juggling our lunch in one hand and your mail in the other.”

She chuckled and stepped back. “Come on in. I’m starving!”

“So am I,” he said with a wink.

The color rose in her cheeks and she felt her own pulse quicken. “The wedding’s only three weeks away,” she reminded him.

“That’s three weeks too long,” he countered, his eyes darkening. Then he took a deep breath and smiled. “But I’ll cope. Let’s eat out on the deck, okay?”

“I’ll grab a couple of sodas.”

When she joined him a few moments later, he handed her the mail. “Thanks,” she said, setting the stack of envelopes aside as she focused on her food. “By the way, that architect you mentioned stopped by this morning. Matthew Lange.”

“What did he say?” Grant asked as he unwrapped his sandwich and took a big bite.

“He didn’t see any reason we couldn’t expand the cottage. He’s going to put together some preliminary ideas for our review.”

“Great. I listed my house yesterday. I don’t think I’ll have any problem selling it.”

Morgan’s face grew thoughtful. “I wonder what Aunt Jo would think about us getting together and making Serenity Point our home?”

“I have a feeling she’d approve. And speaking of Jo, there’s a letter from her attorney in your mail. I noticed the return address when I pulled it out of the box.”

Shuffling through the mail, Morgan withdrew a long envelope from Seth Mitchell. “Do you mind if I open it?”

“Not at all. I’ll just enjoy the view,” he replied with a smile, keeping his gaze fixed on her.

Morgan’s eyes softened and she smiled in return, reaching out to touch his face. He captured her fingers in his and kissed each one, never breaking eye contact. Not until he released her hand did she remember the envelope she was holding. She slit it and withdrew a single sheet of paper, as well as another smaller envelope.

“Dear Ms. Williams: Your aunt asked that I forward this to you after the six-month period stipulated in her will. My congratulations again to you and Mr. Kincaid. I wish you great happiness.”

Setting Seth’s note aside, Morgan turned her attention to the smaller envelope, which was addressed to her in her aunt’s flowing hand.

“It’s a note from Aunt Jo,” she told Grant in surprise.

“Hmm. That’s interesting. Go ahead and read it.”

She pried open the smaller envelope, withdrawing two folded sheets of paper, and began to read.

As Morgan finished reading, she felt Grant’s hand on her cheek. She closed her eyes and reached up to cover his strong fingers with her own, only then realizing that tears were streaming down her face.

“What’s wrong?” he asked in concern.

She opened her eyes, and her heart overflowed with love and gratitude as she handed him the letter. He scanned it, and when he finished, his own eyes were damp.

“She was a very special lady,” he said with a catch in his voice. “I miss her.”

Morgan reached over and took his hand. “I have a feeling she’ll always be with us in spirit,” she murmured. “Especially here, in this place that she loved so much.”

“I think you’re right.” Grant looked out over the blue sea, toward the distant lighthouse. “You know, Jo always found that lighthouse comforting. Even on the darkest, stormiest nights it shone like a beacon, guiding weary travelers home. Much like our faith does, she used to say. I’m glad it’s out there, as a reminder, in case we ever lose our way.”

“I agree.” Morgan squeezed his hand, knowing that their life together wouldn’t be all smooth sailing. No relationship, no life, escaped the occasional storm. But she wasn’t afraid of the journey to come. With her rediscovered faith, and Grant by her side, she would always be safe.

Because she had already docked in her home port.

And she didn’t intend to leave.

A.
J. peeked out the window of the cottage and then turned to her sisters with a grin. “What a perfect day for a wedding!”

Morgan moved beside her sister and stole a quick look at the cerulean sea, the cloudless blue sky and the deep green pines that had become so familiar to her over the past few months. Then she scanned the guests assembled on the back lawn, seated in white folding chairs that faced the ocean. “And it looks as though the time is at hand.”

Clare moved between her sisters, and a tingle of excitement ran down her spine. The setting was spectacular. All of the people they loved were on hand. And soon they would take the vows that would signal the start of a new life for each of them.

“You guys look fabulous.”

The three brides turned to eleven-year-old Nicole, Clare’s soon-to-be stepdaughter, as she gave each of them a long, appreciative look.

A.J. wore a vintage 1960s wedding dress in a gauzy fabric, with a square neckline, empire waist and long, flowing sleeves. Numerous hairpins made a valiant effort to tame her unruly strawberry blond hair, which was crowned with a wreath of daisies, and the matching daisies in her bouquet were interspersed with Maine wildflowers.

Morgan looked every inch the big-city bride in her strapless, satin gown topped with a short-sleeved bolero jacket. Her hair was pulled back on one side by a clip decorated with tiny fresh orchids and stephanotis, and she carried an exotic-looking bouquet of tropical flowers.

Clare had chosen a long, petal-colored chiffon dress that enhanced the faint blush on her cheeks and flowed gracefully when she moved. She wore a simple strand of pearls above the boat neckline, and had chosen pink roses and baby’s breath for her bouquet.

“If I do say so myself, Nicole is right,” A.J. declared with a grin. Then she turned to the young girl. “And our junior bridesmaid looks pretty good herself.”

Nicole blushed and reached up in a self-conscious gesture to check her French braid, which had been twined with baby’s breath. The spaghetti straps and fitted bodice of her mint-green dress showed off her developing figure, and the graceful waltz length allowed the shimmery fabric to swirl around her legs. “Clare did my hair. And she helped me pick the dress,” Nicole said.

“Exhibiting her good taste, as always,” Morgan noted, directing a smile to her older sister.

The string quartet struck up the opening chords of the prelude, and the gentle strains of “Jesu, Joy of Man’s Desiring” drifted through the air.

A.J.’s eyes began to dance, and her grin grew even bigger. “I guess this is it.”

“Any second thoughts?” Clare asked with a smile.

“Not a one. How about you two?”

Clare and Morgan looked at each other and shook their heads.

“Absolutely none,” Clare said.

“I second that,” Morgan added.

“I wish Aunt Jo could be here,” A.J. said, her expression wistful.

Morgan smiled. “I have a feeling she is.”

“Speaking of Aunt Jo…don’t forget the roses, Nicole,” Clare reminded her.

The young girl lifted the three yellow roses and laid them on her arm. “Is it time now?”

Clare nodded and leaned down to give her a hug. “You’re on, sweetie.”

The three sisters watched as Nicole made her way down the aisle, toward the platform that Andrew and Pete had constructed beside the sea. Bill, waiting there, gave her an encouraging smile as she approached.

A.J. moved into position. And as the strains of the bridal march began, she stepped outside and began her walk down the white runner.

While the sisters had agreed that Aunt Jo’s cottage was the perfect setting for their weddings, Seaside was a long way from St. Louis. So A.J. hadn’t expected many of her new friends to make the trip. But she was touched that George and Sophia Pashos had taken time off from their restaurant to come. And of course Jan, her fiancé’s mother, was seated among the guests.

But A.J. wouldn’t have cared if no one had come—except the man she loved. Blake was waiting in front for her, with his father beside him as his best man, and her heart overflowed. As their gazes met and held, she saw in his eyes the depth and promise of his love, and a pledge that it would be forever. A forever she had learned to believe in once again after learning to put her trust in the Lord.

As A.J. took Blake’s arm, Morgan began her slow walk down the aisle. Though the crowd was small, most of the faces were familiar to her after her months in Seaside. Kit and the twins, Uncle Pete, Joe and Elizabeth Carroll, Sylvia and other Good Shepherd board members, along with Grant’s many friends from town, all of whom she was getting to know. Even Grant’s mother had made it into town for the wedding.

But, like A.J., Morgan focused on the man she loved. Grant, too, had chosen his father as his best man, and Andrew looked radiant. But not as radiant as his son. As Morgan looked into Grant’s vivid blue eyes, she knew that their coming together was no less than a miracle. With God’s grace, Grant had found the courage to overcome his fear and let go of the past, while Morgan had learned to value the things that really counted and to realign her life accordingly. And love had been their reward, a deep, enduring love that now shone in Grant’s eyes and mirrored what was in Morgan’s heart. A shining beacon that would sustain them for the rest of their lives, through good times and bad.

Morgan took Grant’s arm as they moved beside the platform, then turned to watch Clare make her entrance.

Clare waited until Morgan was in place, then stepped onto the pristine runner. She knew few of the guests. But Adele Malone and her husband were there from North Carolina. And so was Adam’s sister-in-law, Theresa, who was front and center—and keeping an attentive eye on her groom’s niece and nephew, who were watching the proceedings with excited, wide-eyed excitement.

Clare gave Adam’s best man—his brother, Jack—a quick smile, but then turned her attention to the tall, dark and handsome tuxedo-clad man beside him. The look of love and devotion on his face was enough to make her knees weak, and her heart swelled with emotion. Never had she expected to be given a second chance for happiness. Nor had Adam. But in His goodness, the Lord had looked on them both with kindness. And now, with faith in His abiding presence, they faced tomorrow with hope and confidence.

When Clare took Adam’s arm, he laid his hand on hers and gave her a smile that filled her with joy. As they joined the group assembled at the base of the platform, Nicole stepped forward and handed each of the sisters a yellow rose.

A.J., Morgan and Clare moved together to an empty chair that stood slightly apart from the other guests. Beside it, on a small easel, rested an enlarged copy of the photo of Aunt Jo that Morgan had discovered in Grant’s house. One by one, the sisters bent down and placed a rose on the seat in memory of the woman who had transformed each of their lives. Then they clasped hands and stood in silence, each paying tribute to the aunt who had left them a legacy beyond price.

A legacy of love.

And as the sisters—and brides—turned back to ascend the platform and recite the vows that would unite them with the three special men who had stolen their hearts, they each uttered the same, silent message.

Thank you, Lord. And thank you, Aunt Jo.