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A Hopeful Heart and A Home, A Heart, A Husband

Page 46

by Lois Richer


  “’Though the mountains be shaken and the hills be removed, yet my unfailing love for you will not be shaken, nor my covenant of peace be removed,’ says the Lord, who has compassion on you.”

  When they finally left the church with hearty congratulations ringing in their ears, Maggie’s heart was full. She rode quietly down the old familiar road toward the farm, content with her life at last.

  “Where are the girls?” she asked finally. “They love riding in this truck.”

  “They’re coming with your parents in a while,” he told her. “I wanted to have you to myself for a bit.”

  “That’s nice.” She snuggled against his shoulder with a sigh and then sat straight up. “Oh, my! This place looks wonderful.”

  The farm did look wonderful. The grass was lush and freshly cut, the fences were standing erect, the land was tilled as it waited for the spring. Her flowers still bloomed in the garden and a big pot now sat next to the front door. The screen porch had been repaired, with new corner posts, and everything bore a fresh coat of paint. Nothing had changed, and yet, Maggie realized, everything had changed. She was home.

  “Oh, Grady,” she whispered, stepping out of the truck into his arms. “You’ve done so much work. Everything looks cared for, loved.”

  “I do love it here,” he murmured. “But I love you more.” He kissed her quickly. “Come on, I’ve got to go check on the turkey.”

  Maggie would have liked to look around a little more, but he seemed impatient to go inside, so she went along. Nothing creaked or sagged when she stepped up and the brand-new door opened soundlessly.

  “Welcome home, Maggie,” Grady murmured, ushering her inside.

  Maggie stared.

  Everything gleamed and glistened, from the hardwood floors under her feet to the sparkling light overhead. It was the same and yet it was wonderfully different.

  “Grady, what have you done?” she gasped, wandering into the living room. Under her feet the plush beige carpet absorbed all sound. The room was an exact replica of a picture she’d once cut from a magazine, all neutral tones with an accent of plum and palest pink and touches of silky smooth oak here and there.

  “I made a few changes,” he murmured, stepping across to the gleaming fireplace. “The TV and VCR are in here.” Panels slid open at the touch of his finger, revealing stereo equipment of every possible kind. Her plants still grew, lush and cared for, now along the window ledges.

  “I have to check that turkey,” he reminded her, crossing the hall toward the kitchen. “Come on.”

  Maggie did, staring at the burnished wood of the staircase as she passed. “It smells deli—” Her voice choked up. “Oh, Grady!”

  “I wasn’t sure about this room,” he told her, his voice hesitant. “The others I took from pictures I found in your room, but you never had a kitchen picture. Is it okay?”

  Maggie slid her fingertips along the smooth countertop and glossy oak cabinets. A wall oven was tucked into one corner and in another, a huge refrigerator. In the center of the kitchen was an island with a cooktop on one end and seating at the other. Six comfy chairs sat nestled there, waiting for occupants. Maggie could see beyond the kitchen to the dining room. A long, covered table sat glistening with linen, crystal, china and silver settings. In the middle lay a horn of plenty with fruits and vegetables pouring out.

  “Maggie, you’re crying! It wasn’t supposed to make you cry.” Grady wrapped his arms around her. “I thought you’d like it,” he murmured, soothing her.

  “I do like it,” she said, hiccuping and sniffling inelegantly. “But you shouldn’t have done it. It’s too much. I don’t need all this if I have you.”

  “Maybe you don’t need it, but I wanted to give it to you. I just want you to be happy, sweetheart.”

  “I’m very happy,” she whispered and burst out bawling when she sighted two clay figurines on the shelf above the sink. “Those are the girls’!”

  “Yes, and they belong in our home, don’t they?” He patted her back awkwardly when the words sent Maggie into fresh tears.

  Grady didn’t say anything but pulled Maggie into her workroom. Stopping just inside, she couldn’t help but gasp. A huge ribbon was strung across the wall and the little gold letters on it spelled out Welcome Home Maggie.

  Her fabrics lay on specially built shelves in a corner so that each color was displayed. The big tables had been refurbished so no fabric would snag or tear on that surface. There was a gigantic wall-to-wall mirror on one end of the room and a quilting frame that folded down from the wall. And everywhere there was that wonderful cedar smell. And there, propped against the wall stood a brand-new fishing rod and reel with a red-and-white striped lure attached. She picked up the tag and read “To my dearest love. Grady.”

  “Oh, Grady,” she cried, “please say there isn’t any more.”

  “Well, there’s a Jacuzzi upstairs in the master bedroom,” he told her, frowning when more tears formed. “And I put a—Maggie, will you please stop bawling!”

  Maggie threw herself into his arms and clung for dear life. “I’m sorry,” she murmured at last, swallowing the last sob. “I love it, really I do. It’s wonderful. But it’s far more than I ever needed or wanted, Grady. All I want is you.”

  “Well,” he asserted, slightly disgruntled that his surprise had caused such a downpour, “you’ve got me. And this house. If you don’t like it, we can change it.”

  Maggie burst out laughing and stood on tiptoe to kiss him. “We’re not changing one thing, Grady O’Toole,” she told him firmly. “Not one thing. I love it and you.” She danced around the tables, laughing.

  “God knew all this back when you first showed up in your snakeskin boots, looking for a place to crash for the night. He had it in mind all along. ‘My unfailing love for you will not be shaken,’” she quoted. “Isn’t God wonderful?”

  “Awesome, as Katy says,” he agreed, kissing her once more.

  “They’re kissing again.” Katy giggled, entering her sister’s bedroom. “I saw them in the kitchen.”

  Keeley switched off the computer and joined her sister, who’d stretched out on the brand-new blue carpet. “They’ll probably do that lots now,” she told her younger sister importantly. “Adults do that when they’re in love.”

  “I guess that means we’re moving back home,” Katy whispered, rolling over to stare at the glossy white ceiling. “I’m glad.”

  “Me, too.” They high-fived each other before Keeley poked her sister in the ribs. “After the wedding, it might be a good time to have another talk with Mom about babies. There’s lots of room and I’d kind of like to have a baby brother.”

  “Yeah.” Katy thought about that. “It’s pretty cool how God worked all that out, isn’t it?”

  “It sure is.” Keeley closed her eyes. “Thanks, God,” she whispered. They lay for a few minutes, storing up memories.

  “Do you think it’s a sin to ask God for a four-wheeler?” Katy studied her sibling curiously.

  “No, probably not a sin. But He’s already given us all this.” She waved a hand around. “Maybe you should wait a little bit. Like until after Thanksgiving anyway.”

  “Okay.” Katy nodded. “But then you and I better get serious about it. Granny always says two heads are better than one.” They grinned at each other, remembering how well it had worked in the past. “Besides, it’s not that long till Christmas, you know!”

  Epilogue

  “Well, Mr. O’Toole, it looks like you’ve got yourself the son you wanted so badly.” Maggie smiled, lifting their two-day-old baby up for Grady to lay in the nearby bassinet. “It’s wonderful to be home again.” She smiled at him. “I hope you’re happy.”

  “I’m ecstatic,” he told her, returning to press a kiss against her lips that only hinted at the fullness in his heart. “I have a gorgeous wife, two heartbreaker daughters and a new baby to make our joy complete. And I didn’t care if he was a boy or a girl—you know that! God has given me eve
rything I’ve ever dreamed of. What more could anyone want?” Grady sat down beside her on the sofa and pulled her against him, sighing with contentment.

  “Mmm.” Maggie relaxed against his shoulder, breathing in that strong, spicy scent that was pure Grady. “God is good,” she agreed. “Although I think we might have some disagreement from Katy.”

  “Katy?” Grady sat up straight. “I thought she loved Jordan?”

  “Oh, she does.” Maggie smiled as she tugged him back to her. “I heard her thanking God for him tonight.”

  “But? There is a but, isn’t there?” He looked worried, his forehead pleated in a frown. “What’s wrong?”

  “She really does love Jordan. They both do. But, actually, what Katy really hoped for was a four-wheeler.”

  Grady laughed appreciatively and then kissed his wife. “Our daughter has a lot to learn about the best things in life.”

  LOIS RICHER

  likes variety. From human resources manager to entrepreneurship, life has held plenty of surprises.

  “Having given up on fairy tales, I was happily involved in building a restaurant when a handsome prince walked into my life and upset all my career plans with a wedding ring. Motherhood quickly followed. I guess the seeds of my storytelling took root because of two small boys who kept demanding ‘Then what, Mom?’”

  The miracle of God’s love for His children, the blessing of true love, the joy of sharing Him with others—that is a story that can be told a thousand ways and yet still be brand-new. Lois Richer intends to go right on telling it.

  ISBN: 978-1-4268-1185-2

  A HOPEFUL HEART & A HOME, A HEART, A HUSBAND

  A HOPEFUL HEART

  Copyright © 1998 by Lois Richer

  A HOME, A HEART, A HUSBAND

  Copyright © 1998 by Lois Richer

  All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or in part in any form by any electronic, mechanical or other means, now known or hereafter invented, including xerography, photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, is forbidden without the written permission of the editorial office, Steeple Hill Books, 233 Broadway, New York, NY 10279 U.S.A.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

  This edition published by arrangement with Steeple Hill Books.

  ® and TM are trademarks of Steeple Hill Books, used under license. Trademarks indicated with ® are registered in the United States Patent and Trademark Office, the Canadian Trade Marks Office and in other countries.

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