Marry Me (16 page)

“Nothing torturous, I promise,” Grace said, holding her fingers up in a scout salute. “We've finished up with the baskets, and I have to deliver them. Would you like to come?”

“You have to deliver all of them yourself?”

“No, we divide them up. I only have three stops.”

“Sure, why not?”

The first stop was two blocks over. Christina and Stuart Franklin. The door swung open, and a harried-looking young man peered out. In the background Julia heard a baby crying. A chorus of babies crying, actually.

Stuart's shoulders slumped, but he managed a tired smile. “Hello, Grace. Excuse…
everything
,” he said, as he stepped aside to let them in.

A cyclone had upended the house. Stuart as well. He'd missed a button on his shirt so the plaid pattern was askew. Giant yellow stains adorned both shoulders and his jeans. His hair looked like he'd taken a weed whacker to it, and several days' growth of beard covered his jaw. He led them back to the kitchen, where Julia deposited the basket of food on the counter. Meanwhile, baby cries had reached Defcon 1.

“Excuse me,” he said again, rushing off down the hall.

A couple minutes later, he returned carrying a tiny baby. The tyke looked to be no more than a couple weeks old. A young woman toting two more babies trailed behind him.

“Wow,” Julia said. “Triplets?”

A corner of the young woman's mouth pulled up, which was all she seemed to be able to manage. “Triple the fun.”

As Grace reached over to take one of the babies, the younger woman looked at Julia with curiosity.

“This is my stepdaughter Julia,” Grace said. “She's visiting for a while.”

“You're the one running Sarah's business,” Christina said. “It's nice to finally meet you. Actually, it's nice to see anyone over twenty inches tall. I'm Christina, by the way, and this is my husband Stuart. The crew here is Jacob, Jeremiah, and Joel.”

“Julia is helping me deliver meals tonight,” Grace explained.

“You have no idea how wonderful this is,” the young mother said, already poking around in the basket.

“Right,” Stuart said, with good-natured laughter. “Especially since we've been relying on my cooking lately.”

“It's not so bad,” Christina said, patting him on his shoulder. “He only burned two things today. He's pretty handy with the bottle warming, though.”

“Are you two doing all right?” Grace asked.

“Oh, my yes. The church has been amazing.” Christina turned to Julia. “Grace and her angels organized a schedule during the day so there's always someone here to help out while Stuart's at work. My parents both passed away, and Stuart's folks moved to Florida last year, so we're on our own. It's been such a blessing having our church family.”

Grace rocked the baby in her arms and kissed his tiny head. “Well, we've sort of adopted these little guys. Believe me, we enjoy our time here.”

Christina laughed again. “How's Sarah doing?”

“She's fine,” Grace answered, managing a confident smile. “Restless, of course.”

“Don't I know it? I had to spend the last few months of my pregnancy in bed, too. You tell her we're praying for her.”

“I will.” Grace handed the baby back to Christina. “Well, we've got more meals to deliver. You call if you need anything.”

Christina managed to kiss Grace's cheek despite the squiggling babies between them. “We will. Thank you so much.”

The second house was Ruth Boyle, who'd fallen and broken her ankle. Finally, they reached the third house, Olivia and David Connor.

A stout, balding man answered the door. He smiled in sincere welcome. “Evening, Grace.”

“Hello, David. How is Olivia doing tonight?”

“She's better today. Come on in.”

They followed him into the living room. Sitting on the couch was a tiny, bird-like woman. Once Julia took in the baby-soft tufts of hair on the top of the woman's head the reason for the basket became apparent.

Olivia Connor's face might be tired and drawn, but her smile was glorious. “Visitors! And you've brought goodies.”

“Olivia you look wonderful. Much better than last week,” Grace walked across the room to kiss the woman's pale cheek.

“Shoot, I look like a cancer patient.”

Grace chuckled. “Olivia, you might remember Julia.”

“Thomas's girl, huh? You've turned into quite a stunner.” Her eyes lowered to Julia's ample chest. “I do miss those.”

David Connor choked on the piece of cheese he'd pulled from the basket. “Olivia!”

Her eyes twinkled. “I love to tease him.”

Julia felt like she'd tuned in to a television show in the middle of the season.

Olivia must have sensed Julia's confusion. “Breast cancer, dear. They had to take them both. I know it's vain, but I miss them.”

“Of course you do,” Grace said. “They were part of your body. Part of what made you a woman.”

Olivia looked sad, but resigned. “I suppose in the end, I'd rather have my life than my breasts.”

David looked at his wife with such tenderness Julia almost felt she should leave the room. “I know I'd rather have you,” he said.

“Isn't he sweet?” Olivia asked, blushing like a schoolgirl. “Anyway, it's all in God's hands now. And my oncologist's, of course.”

Grace touched her hand. “I don't want to keep you. I'm sure you must be tired.”

“I am a bit worn out,” Olivia acknowledged. “Thank you for the food, though. Even if I feel too nauseous to eat, David will enjoy it at least. Before you go, there is one thing I'd like.”

“Anything,” Grace said.

“Could you pray for us?”

Grace squeezed her hand. “Oh, Olivia, of course I will.”

With some help, Olivia managed to stand up. Her husband took one hand and Grace the other. Right before they all bowed their heads, Grace reached out her other hand toward Julia.

“I don't think—” Julia began, already backing up.

“Yes, please do join us,” Olivia said.

There was no way Julia could refuse without being rude. With a resigned shrug, she clasped Grace's outstretched hand.

Grace closed her eyes and bowed her head. “Father Almighty, I lift my prayer tonight for my dear friend, Olivia. Father, you are the great physician, and I ask that You put Your healing hand on this dear woman and eradicate this cancer that has invaded her body. And I ask that You envelope her with Your love in this time. Give her courage to deal with whatever lies ahead.

“Father, I also pray for David. Hold him up and give him strength when he is tempted to fall. We know that Your will is perfect. We don't know why this has happened, but I ask that You give David and Olivia the peace that only You can bring. That they may know they are in Your hands, now and forever more. I pray this in Your name. Amen.”

“Amen,” Olivia and David echoed.

With a shaky sigh, Julia lifted her head. Glancing over she saw both Olivia and David wipe tears from their eyes. Then he put his arm around his wife and kissed her soft, downy head. For a moment Olivia leaned into her husband's body and brought her hand up to his cheek.

Julia's breath seized like a vice was squeezing her chest, and with a sudden burst of panic, she raced out the door. When she reached the front porch, she stopped and took a few deep breaths. The tears that had threatened to fall from the moment Grace started to pray finally came. She couldn't even explain why she felt like sobbing. It wasn't sadness exactly. She didn't even know the woman.

No, it was something more. Something in that room. Something powerful and terrifying at the same time

Grace appeared, and wrapped strong arms around Julia's waist.

“Sorry I ran out,” Julia whispered.

“It's all right.”

“How can they be so happy?” Julia asked, on the verge of sobbing. “She might be dying.”

“Trust me, they're frightened. They have faith, though, even if they don't understand.”

“I don't think I understand anything. I don't know what's happening to me.”

“Julia, I think you know exactly what's happening, and it's why you're so panicked. It's frightening to open up and care about people. To question everything you've always believed. Especially when you've spent most of your life keeping others at arm's length.”

Julia released a deep sigh. “Do we have any more deliveries?”

“No, that was the last one.”

“Good. I think I need to call it a night.”

“All right, we'll go, but Julia?”

She avoided looking at Grace. “What?”

“At some point you're going to have to face your fears, otherwise you'll be running for the rest of your life.”

“You and your daughter,” Julia said, letting out a shaky laugh. “You should write a book for the emotionally crippled.”

“You're not crippled, Julia. Just scared. I have faith in you, though. You'll find your way.”

God save him from petty people.

Seriously, God
, Seth prayed,
save me from petty people who have time to write a letter complaining about the color of soap dishes in the bathroom.

“Seth, you still with me?”

Seth mentally shook his head and looked over at the building maintenance supervisor. Frank Zeeman regarded him with bleary brown eyes. Frank sported a potbelly and a graying buzz cut left over from his days in the Air Force. At the moment Frank looked ready to fling said soap dishes across the room.

“I heard you,” Seth said, stifling the biting comment that sprang to his lips. “Axe the soap dishes.”

Seth tried to remain focused. Tried not to care that so much of his job entailed placating the grumblings of perpetually dissatisfied individuals and playing ringleader to warring factions within the church. Tried to remember why he'd felt called to be a minister. Where had his enthusiasm gone? He used to be so gung ho. He was going to save the world.

Ha! Save the world? He couldn't manage to save his own sanity. Sometimes, all the infighting made him want to throw his hands up and walk away.

Which had to be the most insidious threat of all. The work of the devil, for sure. “
You're not good enough. Not strong enough. They don't appreciate you, so why should you stay?”
the dark one whispered at night, or during his weekly staff meetings.

Days like this made him feel Beth's absence more than ever. The twisting ache lodged in his chest again, radiating through his whole body. Would he ever be rid of the emptiness? Was he destined to spend the rest of his life feeling like half a person? He'd heard amputees talk about feeling their missing limbs, but what could a guy do about an amputated heart? There was no prosthesis for his malady.

Beth had been more than someone to warm the other side of the bed. She'd been his anchor, and now he felt adrift. He wondered if all those kind-hearted people who kept trying to set him up knew it wasn't just physical intimacy he craved. He needed a sounding board, someone he could unload on before all the frustrations caused him to implode.

Maybe he should listen to everyone's advice and consider dating again.

A vision of Julia floated through his mind. Her face pinched with sadness as she related the awful story of her youth. Her laughing blue eyes as she teased him about sewn up wedding gowns. By some miracle the tension eased… a bit. Enough so he could breathe again. Enough so he could tell Satan to take a swim in a flame-licked lake. For now anyway.

Except the knowledge that Julia, of all people, was able to bring comfort to his soul, seemed almost as unsettling as the devil's false words. There had to be something wrong with him to think
she
could be the answer to his problems.

The meeting concluded and Seth hoped no one would ask him a question about the day's agenda. He wouldn't have an answer.

He made it back to his office without being stopped. His secretary, Gladys, hopped up from her desk as soon as he came around the corner.

“You have a visitor,” she whispered.

Seth lowered his head and matched her tone. “Who is it?”

Gladys seemed to grasp the absurdity of the situation and straightened to her not inconsiderable height. “It's Reverend Markham.”

“James? Is that all?” he asked. “Why are we so furtive?”

James Markham was the former minister of Covington Falls Community Church and Seth's mentor. James had been the one who'd convinced Seth to put in his application when the older man had retired.

“He looked serious,” Gladys said, her expression still dark.

“James is always serious,” Seth said, stepping around his secretary to reach for the door.

“And my left knee hurts.”

He paused. “I thought your right hip bothered you.”

“Right hip is for rain. Left knee means bad things are coming.”

Seth held back a sigh. Like he needed a chorus of naysayers right now. “Gladys, go see an orthopedist.”

He opened the door and stepped into the office. James Markham rose from the leather chair with much more grace than a man of his size should be capable of. Standing at 6'6”, with the build of a linebacker, James commanded a room not with fire and brimstone, but with a quiet, gentle assurance. As his build implied, he'd once played football. Had a chance to play in the pros, but chose to be a minister instead. As a child, Seth had looked at the big man with awe. James had literally filled the pulpit with his bulk and especially his presence. Now the two shared a bond only ministers could.

James held out his hand. “Seth, good to see you again.”

He grasped the offered palm and gestured for his old friend to sit. “You, too. How's Betty?”

The older man's wizened face softened at the mention of his wife. “She's well. We just got back from visiting the grandkids.”