by Merry Farmer
“I could have worried myself into a hole in the ground and it wouldn’t have made a difference. I think,” she grew a shade more serious, “I think that the Lord had a plan for me all along, and He would have made sure that that plan was fulfilled, whether I worried about it or not.”
Andrew chuckled. The sea breeze ruffled his sun-tipped hair and shone in his blue eyes.
“You think so?”
“I know so at this point.” Louisa sighed with contentment. “I guess the same must be true for everyone. It’s the not knowing that drives us all to distraction.”
“And you think that you know now.” He continued to tease her lightly. “You know what the Lord’s plan for you is.”
She laughed. “I think I might have had enough of a glimpse of it to make me feel better in the moment, but you can bet your bottom dollar that I’ll be back to worrying and fretting about everything before the week is done. How slow we are to realize and how quickly we forget the ways of Providence.”
The mirth in his eyes flashed to genuine, deep respect. “What beautiful wisdom.”
“Hmm.” She darted a glance at him out of the corner of her eye.
She paused, pressing her lips together for a moment and squeezing Andrew’s hand tighter before saying, “Andrew, I will start worrying again. I know I will. Something will come along and dash my certainty to shreds. And then I’ll get all moody and impossible again. I don’t want to be like that, I pray all the time for the Lord to take away my fear and help me to live at peace. But I think it’s something that will always chase after me.”
Andrew nodded, watching the edge of a wave as it washed ashore, rolling pebbles with it.
“If it chases you, I’ll chase it,” he promised.
Louisa burst into a smile. “You won’t always win, you know.”
He shrugged. “Let me worry about that then.”
Louisa laughed. He stopped walking, and she stopped beside him. They were far along the empty beach. The sun glittered on the crests of the waves, warming the beach around them.
“I can’t promise you that I’ll never say anything stupid or wrong,” he confessed, lowering his eyes in a sheepish grin. “You know I speak without thinking half the time.”
“Oh, I know.” Louisa sent him a playful wink. Her heart was swelling so fully that it took her breath away.
Andrew reached out for her other hand, holding both between the two of them.
“I will want to take care of you too. If everything keeps going the way it’s promising to go with the business, I will have money, and I’ll want to spend it on you whether you like it or not, pride or no pride.”
She smiled, her cheeks burning red. “You’re going to frustrate me to death, aren’t you?”
“Wouldn’t miss it for the world.”
For a moment they stood together in silence. Louisa blinked and worked up the courage to look up and meet his eyes. He was watching her intently. The emotion on his face was so strong that she felt the telltale sting of tears forming in her eyes. He reached up and cradled her jaw in his hand, rubbing his thumb gently along her cheekbone. His touch felt so good.
“Louisa,” he whispered. “I love you.”
She blinked and the tears that had formed from the joy of her heart spilled onto her face. She’d waited so long to hear those beautiful words. He spoke them with more than just his lips. He spoke with the depth of his soul, all of his heart, beaming forth with the full force of all the wonderful things he was. She swallowed, working to find her own voice amidst the rush of emotion enveloping her, enveloping both of them.
“I love you too,” she finally managed to whisper back.
He burst into a laugh, as if he had been holding his breath while waiting for her answer. A tear escaped from his own eyes, only making her cry harder. She had never been so happy.
He leaned closer, letting her hands go and sliding his arms around her waist, holding her close.
“Will you be my wife?” he asked, voice shaking with emotion.
She laughed and nodded, and squeezed out the words, “I will.”
Neither of them could hold back the joy swirling around them. Andrew bent his head toward her and brushed his lips softly against hers, exhaling as if coming home after a long absence. Her lips parted and she rested fully against him as he kissed her tenderly, threading her arms up around his neck and spreading her fingers in his hair. It felt so wonderful, so right, that she couldn’t help but give herself over to him and let him kiss her as long and as deeply as he wanted to. In her heart she knew that this would be the first of a lifetime, an eternity of kisses. She was home in his arms.
As he broke the kiss and smiled, resting his forehead against hers with a contented sigh, she felt the Lord’s words echoing in her mind and in her heart: “The Lord is good to all and His tender mercies are over all His works.”
I hope you have enjoyed More Precious Than Gold. And I hope you’re ready to hear more stories from the Cape Ann Swedenborgian Society, starting with Wren and Jamie’s story, Deeper Than The Sea, later this summer! If you would like to be alerted the moment it comes out, be sure to sign up for my newsletter at http://eepurl.com/RQ-KX.
And if you’re interested in learning more about Emanuel Swedenborg and the New Church, please visit the Swedenborg Foundation.
Click here for a complete list of works by Merry Farmer
About the Author
Merry Farmer is an award-winning novelist who lives in suburban Philadelphia with her two cats, Butterfly and Torpedo. She has been writing since she was ten years old and realized one day that she didn't have to wait for the teacher to assign a creative writing project to write something. It was the best day of her life. She then went on to earn not one but two degrees in History so that she would always have something to write about. Her books have topped the Amazon and iBooks charts and have been named finalists in the prestigious RONE and Rom Com Reader’s Crown awards.
Click here for a complete list of works by Merry Farmer
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Acknowledgments
I would never be able to do what I do without the help of some fabulous people. I’d like to thank my amazing beta-readers, Cissie Patterson, Cindy Jones, Anita Foster, Roxy Brush, Carly Cole, and Alison Cole for their amazing suggestions and advice. I have to thank my fabulous editor, Aven Rose, once again for helping me go beyond what I thought I was capable of. I guess I should also thank the Swedenborg Library and Bryn Athyn College for having mounds and mounds of primary source material in the archives. I’ve read through so much of the things that were written at the time of the split from as many sides of the issues as I could find, but—surprise, surprise—not a lot was written down and saved about what people were feeling at the time, probably because it was so personal and the culture of the church was not to tell tales out of school, if you know what I mean. And finally, where would I be without the Mistress of Badass herself, my publicist Anne Chaconas, and the whole Badass Marketing team.
