by Janette Oke
The pair of them made people smile, and she liked that. She was happy that those who liked Connor were genuinely relieved he had found her, someone so stable and calm and dependable. And he did care for her; Bethan did not doubt that for a moment. One look into those gray-green eyes, and she had no question that the church’s assistant pastor had fallen head over heels in love. With her. Bethan could scarcely believe it was really happening. To someone beautiful and talented and smart, certainly. But not to her. Then a look into his face would confirm in her heart what her mind could not.
The first evening in September found Bethan curled up on the porch swing, surrounded by the night. Indian summer had arrived early. The days generally were clear and only warming around noon, while the nights held a chilly note. She pushed herself back and forth with one toe, her shoulders protected by a fine shawl. The swing’s gentle creaks were echoed by crickets in the nearby shrubs.
Bethan breathed in deeply, enjoying the time of blissful relaxation from the cares of the day and the duties of the coming night. For now, blest relief, her mother rested quietly.
The night was awash in silver from a brilliant moon suspended within a heaven-wide swath of stars. A shadow flitted from one dark pine to another, followed by the hooting call of a night owl. Bethan drew the shawl closer about her, content and peaceful.
She had nothing specific she could identify as the reason for feeling as she did. But the mood was too powerful to be denied, too pleasing to be questioned. She sighed and pushed the swing as gently as she could and still be in motion, not wanting anything to disturb the graceful wonder of this night.
Off in the distance a train gave its plaintive call, and it reminded Bethan of Jodie. Yet instead of being filled with the sorrow of her friend’s absence, of the terrible rift between them, tonight was somehow different. She had never envied Jodie her hungry heart and questing mind. Her friend was far more intelligent, and would most likely rise much further, and would do important things in the world. But would she ever know the peace of a quiet autumn evening shared with a sleepy country town and her Lord?
Bethan raised her face to the stars, inhaled a fragrance wafted upon the faintest of breezes, and prayed again for her best friend, for she still thought of her as such. “Lord,” she whispered more with her heart than her lips, “please wrap your arms around Jodie.…”
“Miss Bethan?”
Bethan stopped her swinging and peered out into the darkness. “Connor? Is that you?”
“Yes, ma’am, it surely is. May I join you, please?”
The thrill at the sound of his voice made every fiber of her being come instantly more alive. “Of course you can.” There was not the ending of her peace, but rather a shifting, as though the inner gift were making room for him as she did herself upon the swing. “What has you talking so formal tonight?” she teased lightly. “You’d think we’d never met, instead of sitting in church together just yesterday.”
Connor climbed the front stairs, passing into the soft glow of light sifting through the screen door. He wore his best dark suit. His blond hair was carefully brushed. His hands held a hat in front of him and made a continual nervous revolution as he approached.
Bethan inspected the tense features, the overbright eyes, the set to his shoulders, and felt her pulse quicken. She stopped her swinging, settled both feet down together upon the porch, and whispered, “Oh, my.”
“Miss Bethan, I’m here to tell you how much I care for you,” he said, speaking in an uncharacteristic monotone, as if he had practiced so often the words had been drained of all feeling. Despite the evening’s chill, perspiration made his forehead gleam in the soft light. “How much I care for you,” he repeated, this time his heart filling each word with emotion. “I am asking you to be my wife, Bethan Keane. Will you marry me?”
“Oh, Connor.” Her voice was suddenly as light and soft as the evening breeze. “Of course I will.”
“What?” Connor’s own voice had fallen to a level matching her own.
For some reason Bethan could scarcely catch her breath. She whispered, “I said yes, Connor. I would—”
A voice with a faint Welsh accent was heard from the secondfloor window. “Speak up, daughter. I can’t be hearing what your answer is.”
“Momma?” Bethan scrambled to her feet, hurried to the side of the porch and looked up. “What on earth are you doing out of bed?”
“I’m waiting to hear if you’ve got the good sense to tell that gentleman what he ought to be hearing.” Moira pushed up on the window until it surrendered and opened far enough for her to put her head out. “Now answer the good fellow so we can all get our rest.”
“I already did, Momma.” Bethan laughed and looked back over to a confused-looking Connor. “I told him yes.”
“Well, glory be.” Moira’s head disappeared, and the curtains flicked back into place. “Bid the gentleman a gracious good evening from me as well,” she said.
“Yes, Momma. Good night, Momma.” Bethan smiled and walked back to where Connor stood stock-still and bewildered. “It’s all right. She won’t be bothering us any further.”
“Maybe… maybe I should be leaving,” he stammered.
“Nonsense. Come join me on the swing.” She graced him with a smile from the heart. “After all, how often does a girl get a proposal from the finest man in town?”
“I’m not that,” Connor said, settling down beside her. “But just being with you makes me feel that way.”
She took his big hand in both of hers. My husband, she thought, and felt as though her heart would break free of her ribs. “I think my heart has been waiting for you to come all evening.”
“I’ll try hard as I know how to make you a good husband.”
She looked into the face she had come to love over the months, and she saw that same love mirrored in his eyes. She was amazed at her own calm. All her life she had dreamed of a fine young man telling her those words. Now that it had happened, she felt surrounded by a certainty, a peace, so strong there was scarcely any room for nerves. “I know you will,” she assured him. “Your heart is too good to do anything else.”
In the faint distance the train whistle echoed yet again, and suddenly the earlier whispers carried by the wind came clear to her mind. Bethan shivered. Perhaps this would be the answer she had prayed over for so very, very long.
“Are you cold, darling?”
Darling. The word was so unexpected that it took a moment before she realized it was meant for her. For her. “No, just happy.” She leaned her head against his shoulder, felt his strength and his solid presence. Tomorrow she would write the letter, and already she knew just exactly what she was going to say. “So very, very happy.”
Jodie had spent the summer suspended between two worlds.
Because of pressure on him to prepare another paper scheduled for presentation at a September conference, Dr. Dunlevy offered her a temporary position as lab technician. She accepted with vast relief. The stipend would grant her enough money to travel back and forth each weekend to Harmony. The job saved her from the need to spend another whole summer hidden away in the too-quiet house, with only her books for company. And the work granted her a chance to see if she wanted to stay at the university and do pure research.
It was easier than she had expected to avoid Lowell. He worked in another lab, and it looked as though he did his best to stay out of her way as well. She tried to convince herself that this was a welcome development but was not very successful. Twice she had thought to start a conversation, only to lose her nerve at the last moment. After that, she simply avoided him and the shadows in his eyes.
Jodie’s work with Dr. Dunlevy was beginning to open up possibilities of success and recognition for her. Neither had yet arrived, but both were close enough for her to realize they might soon be a part of her daily life.
Several pharmaceutical companies were moving into the area, setting up labs and factories. She was being courted by three of them
. Someone dropped by several times each week, chatting with her, showing they were friendly people to work with, remembering at the last moment that they had thought of something else to offer. The generosity of their proposals were both gratifying and frightening. How should she decide? Dr. Dunlevy wasn’t much help. “Go for the biggest money,” he joked, when all the while Jodie knew that wasn’t high on his priorities.
At the same time, under Dr. Dunlevy’s prodding, the college had offered her a part-time research and teaching position, which would give her time to write and present her Ph.D. thesis. The idea of becoming Doctor Jodene Harland appealed more than she liked to admit.
But there were problems as well, questions she would not have dreamed could still be nagging at her. Despite her growing success—more money of her own than she had ever had in her life, stimulating and challenging work under the direction of a man she deeply admired, and the flattering knowledge that major companies in her field were “fighting over her”—Jodie found herself no closer to happiness than she had ever been. Hollow dissatisfaction ate at her, at times stronger than ever before; it seemed as though she felt threatened by success. As though it stripped away a part of her defenses, left her open to a deeper examination of herself than was comfortable.
“Jodie?”
She started from her reverie, turned, and saw Lowell Fulton standing in her open door. “Yes?”
“I didn’t mean to frighten you.”
“You didn’t frighten me,” she said flatly, feeling the automatic barriers rise inside her.
“ ’Course not,” he agreed quickly. He did not seem to be in any hurry, leaning against the doorframe now, glancing around the lab. “How’s your work coming along?” he asked.
“Fine,” she said, the monosyllable hanging in the air between them. She wondered why she felt so vulnerable whenever he was around. She toyed with the pencil between her fingers and found herself wishing she could let go of the past and accept his offered friendship. She needed him. At least, she corrected herself, she needed someone.
But the old resistance to new friendships was not so easy to dismiss. “I thought,” she said, the same old coldness in her voice, “that you were working under the same deadline for your results as me?”
“Oh, that tobacco’s been barned,” he said easily.
“Pardon me?”
“Finished up the project four, five days ago.”
Once again, there was the sense of Lowell catching her totally off guard. Jodie looked down at her own results. She had another week’s work to complete. At least.
“I was just wondering,” Lowell went on, “if you’d decided what you were going to be doing come the end of this month.”
“Not yet,” Jodie replied.
“You know, those companies have been after me as well,” he went on. “Been thinking maybe it’d be good to get my feet wet in the real world, then come back for more schooling. How about it?”
It dawned on Jodie that he knew more about her life than she did about his. “You mean, you still want to work with me? You’re suggesting that we team up?”
“Could be,” he said, his tone still easy.
Before she could reply, he pointed at her desk. “How do you find anything in that jumble?” The question was asked without rancor, and Jodie decided not to be defensive.
“A messy desk is the sign of a brilliant mind,” she replied, but the sharpness was gone from her voice.
“Maybe so,” he responded mildly, “but it also makes for questionable lab results. And it slows you down something awful.”
While she was still struggling to come up with a response, Lowell walked over and sat down across from her. “I think we should join forces,” he told her, his voice quiet yet serious. “I am methodical, you are not. But I lack your vision—and maybe even a little of your insight.”
It was quite an admission, without putting himself down. They both knew he had a brilliant mind, so there was no use denying the fact.
Then to Jodie’s surprise he looked directly into her eyes and said with quiet honesty, “And I want to share in your glory, plain and simple.”
The open guilelessness of his voice disarmed her. “What glory?”
“The glory that is bound to come your way,” Lowell answered. “You are too gifted to be held down. Sooner or later you are going to make a discovery that will change the way we live our lives. I can feel that in my bones. But you need me, and if you gave yourself half a chance, I think you’d realize this too. Your lab results—well… are sloppy. You are impatient with people who don’t catch on as fast as you do. You need me to help deal with the administrators, to talk to the outside world, to write up your results.”
He stopped. He must have given the matter a lot of thought. When Jodie did not protest loudly at his words, he leaned across her desk and said with enthusiasm, his eyes sparkling at the very thought, “Jodie Harland, if we were to join forces, there is nothing on earth that could stop us. Nothing.”
The moment seemed suspended in time. Jodie had no idea how long she remained there, held by his gaze and the lingering power of his words. Finally she managed, “I’ll think about what you’ve said.”
A cloud passed over his face. “Sure you will,” he said, his tone now resigned. She knew that was not the answer he had hoped for. He rose to his feet, started to turn away, then remembered. “Oh, I almost forgot. There was a letter in your box. I saw you were busy and brought it over to save you the trip.”
“Why, thank…” The words faded to nothingness as Jodie saw the name on the envelope’s return address.
Bethan.
“What’s the matter?” Lowell leaned over the desk, a concerned expression on his strong features. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.” She still had not taken the letter from him.
“Please don’t go,” Jodie said through stiff lips. She looked back at the letter, knew she did not have the will to open it, knew she could never throw another one away. The nights after burning Moira’s letter had been the worst since her argument with Bethan.
With a trembling hand she pushed the letter away and whispered, “Will… will you read it to me?”
Surprise registered on Lowell’s face. He sank into the seat opposite her. “Do what?”
Jodie picked up the letter again and extended it across her cluttered desk. “Please.”
Slowly he accepted the letter, his eyes fastened on her face. “You’ve gone all pale. Is it family?”
She shook her head, a quick little tremble.
He glanced down at the letter. “From Harmony. That’s your hometown.”
Fear left her unable to speak. She had never felt so exposed, so helpless, not in years. For a terrible moment she imagined him tossing the letter back to her, responding with the same coldness she had shown him. And she was just too vulnerable, too shattered to bear it right then. She needed his help. But all Lowell did was glance once more at her face before slitting open the envelope and pulling out the letter. He flattened it on the edge of her desk, cleared his throat, and began to read aloud.
“ ‘Dearest Jodie. I have the most exciting news, and I simply could not keep it to myself. I am to be married! Honest. And to the most wonderful man. His name is Connor Mills. I wish I had time to tell you about him. I could write pages and pages about him, but it is late afternoon, and I am already behind in getting the evening meal. Momma has had another bad day.’ ” Lowell paused and looked up.
Jodie’s thoughts whirled within her. The words were in the same simple pattern that Bethan spoke in, and even though they were said by a deep male voice, it still felt as though her friend had entered the lab office and was standing there over her desk. Her friend. Thinking of Bethan again opened all the old wounds. And yet there was a difference, a sense of beckoning. Jodie blinked back the tears with difficulty and concentrated on the words as Lowell continued reading.
“ ‘… of course I can think of no one but my dearest friend to be my bridesmaid.
I would be so honored if you would accept. We have not finalized the date, but we do not wish it to be a long engagement. Is there a time that would work best for you? I will keep you posted. Please, please, if you have a moment, do write and let me know if you could come.’
“ ‘I must run. Momma is calling.’
“ ‘With my love, Bethan.’ ”
In a daze, Jodie watched Lowell fold the letter carefully and look again at her. She found in his cautious gaze the anchor she needed to maintain control. She realized that he had no idea why this letter had affected her so, but seeing the emotions playing across her face no doubt kept him from asking.
She took a careful breath, one which hurt her to draw. Her eyes were ready to spill over at any moment, in spite of her determined effort. She knew she could not speak, not yet, so she made do with a small smile and a nod of thanks.
Lowell took it as a nod of dismissal. He slid the letter back in the envelope, set it on the desk in front of her, and rose to his feet. At the doorway he stopped and turned back. There was a long moment of hesitation before he said quietly, “If you need anything, I’ll be down in my office.”
She swallowed and tried to form the words thank you, but the power of speech had not yet returned. Her eyes drifted down to the letter there before her, and a single hot tear escaped to trickle down her cheek.
TWENTY
JODIE SAT ON THE SWING beside Bethan, more unsure of what to say or do than she had been in her entire life.
Bethan, however, seemed utterly at ease, as if they were girls again making daisy chains. Bethan rocked them back and forth and told in matter-of-fact tones all that had happened in the past few years— Dylan’s marriage and the babies, Carol’s death, her mother’s illness, Connor’s arrival, their growing romance and engagement.
