He had persevered, putting the final touches of the film together and making arrangements for its distribution. A month ago he had thrown away the crutches.
As busy as he was, Rex should have found it easy to keep his mind off Muriel.
He tapped the envelope in his hand against the table. An engraved invitation to the premiere of Ruined Hopes was addressed in his best schoolboy script to Miss Muriel Galloway, c/o 20th Century Theater, New York City, New York.
He kissed the envelope and sent up a prayer. “Lord, let it be.”
Muriel stood at the window of her room at the Brown Palace Hotel. Traffic bustled up and down Broadway. Broadway. The view looked nothing like the Great White Way she had left behind in New York for this premiere.
She had arranged to take off time from the play for the movie’s premiere—it was written into her contract—and took the train to Denver. Benny had picked her up at Union Station; she had run into Fred as well as several of the other actors over dinner. Of Rex, she had seen no sign. Benny said he was busy with last minute details regarding the film.
Muriel wanted to see Rex, to reassure herself that the fears that he had slipped away from the Lord when he returned to his usual environment were unfounded. To look into his eyes and convince herself that whatever she thought she had felt for him was a result of hours spent together in an isolated setting.
Because it couldn’t be anything else, at least not on Rex’s side. Why else had he maintained silence for all this time?
Why was he ignoring her now that she had arrived in Denver?
She looked at the sky. Gray and overcast, as if it might snow soon. From what she had heard from Rex over the summer, weather in Denver varied wildly, going from shirtsleeve weather to snowfall in the same twenty-four hours. She didn’t want to spend the day cooped up inside the hotel, even one as beautifully appointed as this one. Settling her cloak over her shoulders, she headed for the stairs.
As she passed the front desk, a clerk called, “Miss Galloway!”
She pulled the hood of her cloak over her features, as she often did when in public. Then she let it fall back. This wasn’t New York. She approached the window at the desk. “Yes?”
“You have a message. I was just going to send it up to your room.” He beamed.
Muriel turned the envelope over in her hand. Addressed to “Miss Muriel Galloway” in a strong hand. Fine quality linen paper. Could it be…Her fingers fumbled at she slipped her nail under the flap and opened it.
Dearest Muriel,
Benny tells me that you have arrived safely.
I hope you find your room at the Brown Palace to your liking.
I would like to meet you tonight, beneath the beautiful stained-glass ceiling at the Brown Palace. I have much I wish to say to you, but pen and paper will not suffice.
Please join me at the hour of seven o’clock in the lobby.
Truly yours,
Rex Pride.
The sight of his bold signature brought a smile to her face. Seven o’clock. She didn’t have much time. She turned to speak to the clerk. “Can you recommend a hair salon?”
A couple of minutes before seven, Muriel paused at the bottom of the stairway. She touched her hat and looked at her dress. Would Rex think the tiered skirt, complete with ruffles and lace, too dressy? She had worn practical clothing while on location. She touched her hair uncertainly, scanning the room for a sign of Rex.
The door flew open with the force of the wind behind it, and Rex strode in. The wind had curled his hair into comfortable peaks. He was dressed in a suit but ignored a tie, instead leaving the top button unbuttoned. Gladness filled her heart, broadening her smile and filling her senses. She couldn’t hide her happiness at seeing him if she wanted to.
Most marvelous of all, the expression on his face said he felt the same way.
“Muriel.” Rex’s tongue swelled, thick in his mouth. “You’re beautiful.”
“Thank you.” She glanced shyly away. “You look fine yourself.” Her eyes searched his face. “You have changed. I can tell.” Her hand reached for him then dropped without reaching his face.
“Have you seen the ceiling up close? It’s beautiful.”
She craned her neck to look. “Who’s the artist?”
He told her what he knew about the stained glass while they walked the stairs.
She asked, and he talked about the past few months, about what he had learned and what he had yet to learn, about how excited he was with his Christian faith while they circled the railing that looked down on the lobby.
“I had something else I wanted to discuss with you. If it were spring, I would have taken you to Elitch Gardens but given the snowfall…I asked you here. Walk with me?”
Dark eyelashes fluttered at him as he took her arm and walked her to a quiet spot at the end of the hall, overlooking the snow-shrouded street below. Taking both her hands in his, he turned her to look at him.
“Muriel, I know a vain, foolish man. He was so eaten up by pride that it almost cost him his life—both eternal life and physical life. Can you accept the love of a man like that?”
“Oh, Rex.” She swung his hand and dropped it. “If that man has received Christ, he’s a new creation in Christ. The old man is gone forever.” Bringing his hand up again, she took a step closer. “And if you’re talking about Rex Pride, yes, I could love a man like that. I do love a man like that.”
He lifted her hands to his lips, kissing each knuckle, then pulled her into an embrace. “May I make a double announcement tomorrow night? Introducing you as the future Mrs. Rex Pride?”
Happiness shining from her eyes, she said, “Yes.”
He pulled her into a close embrace, claiming her lips—and her heart—with a kiss.
Bestselling author Darlene Franklin’s greatest claim to fame is that she writes fulltime from a nursing home. She lives in Oklahoma, near her son and his family, and continues her interests in playing the piano and singing, books, good fellowship, and reality TV in addition to writing. She is an active member of Oklahoma City Christian Fiction Writers, American Christian Fiction Writers, and the Christian Authors Network. She has written over fifty books and more than 250 devotionals. Her historical fiction ranges from the Revolutionary War to World War II, from Texas to Vermont. You can find Darlene online at www.darlenefranklinwrites.com.
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