Heartsong

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Heartsong Page 15

by Debbie Macomber


  The overcast skies didn’t discourage her, and she set her pace, attacking San Francisco’s hilly streets with a vengeance until her lungs burned and her calf muscles quivered. A loneliness beyond anything she’d ever experienced over all the years she’d lived alone came to prey on her mind. Before leaving Peggy’s that afternoon, Janey had insisted on showing her the freshly painted bedroom being readied for the baby. Bright daffodil-yellow walls decorated with Disney characters met her. The bassinet was ready and filled with tiny sleepers and booties Peggy and Janey had lovingly prepared. Skye laughed and chatted for a few minutes, examining each piece while Janey beamed with pride. But as she left, walking across the street to her car, the tears came. They were a surprise then, and she quickly wiped them aside without Janey or Peggy noticing.

  Now she understood. The reality hit her, hammering into her stomach. She would never marry. She would never bear a child. When she went to bed tonight and every night for the rest of her life she would be alone. There would be no Jordan with whom to share the intimate details of her life, no Jordan to listen to her silly songs. Her songs. She almost laughed. How very grateful she was to her music. It had been difficult in the beginning, when she’d felt bone-dry of any creative ability. All her efforts had been channeled toward presenting a cheerful façade. Now she was grateful for her time at the hospital; it helped fill the void. Sally had done her best to force Skye into the dating world and wanted to set up another date with Steve King, but Skye declined with the promise that she would, given time.

  Completing her run, her lungs heaving, she slowed her pace to walk the remaining blocks to the apartment. The hot water of the shower soothed her upturned face, but not her heart. Without Jordan she would need to relinquish the deep womanly desire for a child. Peggy’s rounding stomach was a knife twisting at her soul. The euphoric experience of being a mother would be denied her. She’d relinquished so much in her life, she thought bitterly: Glen, her father, Jordan, and now children.

  She dressed and forced herself to eat half a sandwich. Although she had no desire to attend the Wednesday evening church service, she refused to allow any bitterness into her life. Her trust was in the Lord, she affirmed aloud.

  Skye was grateful for one thing: Jordan had never returned her father’s Bible. This was probably a subtle punishment that served its purpose in the beginning. Now she was glad he’d kept it. The time would come when he would be ready to accept Christ, and her father’s Bible would be there. She prayed that when he read it he would remember her fondly.

  For the most part, her anger at his deception was gone; the hurt remained deep and painful, but that, too, would pass with time. It would be very difficult to hate someone she prayed for, and she often found her prayers centering on Jordan.

  The church was quiet and peaceful, offering solace. So much had transpired this day; emotions, awakenings, realizations. She wouldn’t hide from her feelings again as she’d done after Glen and her father had died. Slipping into the wooden pew, she bowed her head in prayer. It was true she must relinquish Jordan and the desire for children, but the exchange was a fair one. Jordan had done so much for her, and she would always be grateful God had sent him into her life.

  The pastor’s words cut into her thoughts as the service began. The congregation sang a few choruses, and then Peggy and Brad slipped into the pew beside Skye. The Scripture lesson was on Matthew 19. Skye flipped open the pages of her Bible to the Gospel.

  “And I say to you again,” the pastor began, reading, “it is easier for a camel to go through the eye of a needle, than for a rich man to enter the kingdom of God.”

  Uneasily Skye felt her stomach begin to twist, and she sent Peggy a confused look.

  Peggy shrugged, her eyes as perplexed as Skye’s.

  “To fully understand this verse,” the pastor began to explain, “one must realize that the eye of a needle was the name of a gate, and it was possible for a camel to gain entrance, but first any cargo must be unloaded.” He continued by making the comparison between the camel’s cargo and our worldly goods. “Next the camel was forced to get down on his knees.”

  Skye’s attention was pulled from the pastor as Brad began scribbling a note. Peggy intercepted it and added a message before handing it to Skye.

  Speaking of going to my knees, would you take Janey this weekend? I want to be alone with my wife, the note read. Peggy’s message was an added postscript. I hope you’re listening to the pastor, and before you ask, no, I didn’t have anything to do with his choice of topic.

  Skye took her pen and scribbled a note back. If you two don’t quit writing notes in church, I’ll report you to the elders. And yes, I’d love to have Janey.

  She rose early Saturday morning. She’d have to get her running in early since Brad was bringing Janey to her apartment around ten. She followed her normal course, which offered a variety of terrains: flat, steep, curvy. She managed the eight miles in less than an hour; rivulets of perspiration rolled off her body as she stepped into her building. She wiped the sweat from her cheekbones before stooping down to extract her key from a small compartment in the side of her shoe.

  “Do you carry your whole purse in your shoe these days?”

  The words struck her like a blow, depriving her lungs of oxygen. She straightened, slowly.

  “Jordan,” she managed. She wasn’t ready to see him again; she needed time to school her reactions, to prepare herself.

  He was dressed casually in dark corduroy pants and a charcoal-gray shirt that matched his eyes exactly. It was the first time she’d seen his left arm without the cast.

  “Can I come in?” he asked. “Or will that defile your love for your dead boyfriend?”

  Her back went rigid, her fists clenched tightly as she opened the door and stepped aside. Nervously she ran the back of her hand across her forehead before walking inside.

  He followed her, closing the door. “I’m returning your father’s Bible.”

  She nodded lamely. She’d rather he kept it, but to tell him that would reveal her love. Instead she mumbled, “Thank you.”

  He laid the Bible on the table in the entryway and hesitated before pulling an envelope from the Bible. “Your niece wrote me a very interesting letter.”

  She searched his face. “Yes, I know. She wanted to thank you for the doghouse.”

  “This didn’t have a thing to do with the doghouse.” He exhaled sharply. “She said you loved me.” A muscle twitched in his jaw. “Is it true? Do you love me?”

  Skye felt trapped. She couldn’t lie to him, not again. “Yes.” The lone word was wrenched from her.

  “Why?” he demanded in a low growl. “Why did you lie?”

  “You lied to me,” she shouted. “I don’t even know your name. Is it Jordan or Dan, Kiley or Murphy?” Her laugh was harsh.

  He sighed wearily, the hard line of his mouth tightening. “Jordan Murphy. My mother’s maiden name is Kiley. I gave the hospital the name Jordan Kiley because I didn’t want to be recognized.”

  “Was it some kind of perverted game to play me for a fool? Did you want to see how far you could go?” Her voice was treacherously low.

  “No, Skye—no.” He plowed his fingers through his hair in angry reaction. “It’s true I didn’t intend to tell you at first, but I didn’t intend to fall in love with you, either.”

  Her gaze darted to Jordan, but she couldn’t look at him long without revealing the effect of his words.

  “If you loved me, then why continue with the charade? If you trusted me at all, why lie?”

  “If you loved me, then why did you put me through this hell?” he countered quickly.

  She lowered her gaze guiltily. “I was hurt and rightly so. I gave you an excuse that would make the cut quick and clean.”

  “Once you told me the girl’s name who sang at the hospital was Jane. You allowed that charade to continue because you wanted me to like you for who you were, not for any talent you had,” he said, and sighed heavily.
“My excuse, however lame, is the same. I wanted you to love me for who I am, not for anything I could do to advance your career.”

  “Really, Jordan …” She gave a small laugh that bordered on a sob. “Or do you prefer to be called Dan?”

  His mouth thinned with displeasure. “Jordan.”

  “All right,” she said stiffly. “And really that’s a pretty weak excuse, seeing that I had no interest in a singing career, something I’d repeatedly told you. And yet you carried this whole thing to the extreme. When did you plan to tell me who you really were? On our wedding night?”

  “I meant to tell you a hundred different times, but something always prevented me. I had every intention of telling you the night I gave you the ring, but you were so concerned about Billy, I didn’t want to burden you further. I was going to tell you. Believe that, please.”

  Her weary blue eyes slid to him again. “It’s more than the fact you lied. You’re a very rich man.… You … you seem to think money can buy you anything.”

  “It didn’t buy your love, did it?” he asked, his voice softening.

  “No.” Her hands gestured helplessly. “It’s more than your deception. I’m afraid a relationship between us simply wouldn’t work. We’re too different.”

  “We’re not different at all,” he argued. “We share the same Savior.”

  The silence that followed was profound.

  “Jordan,” she whispered, almost afraid to believe what he was telling her. “You decided to make God a part of your life?”

  A hint of a smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. “It didn’t come easy. The Lord had to bring me to my knees.”

  Suddenly the picture of a camel going through the eye of the needle in the wall of Jerusalem came to mind.

  “You’re right about my money,” he continued. “In the past it bought me anything I desired. But it couldn’t buy me your love. When we first met, I couldn’t believe anyone could be so completely trusting in a Superior Being. You were too good to be true, and I kept waiting to find some flaw in your faith. There wasn’t one. Soon I found myself falling hopelessly in love with you. When you declared your undying love for Glen, I was defeated. I couldn’t fight a dead man. All the money in the world wouldn’t buy me your love. It came to me then that I had all the money I needed or wanted, but it hadn’t brought me happiness. Not knowing where else to turn, I read your father’s Bible. It was the only way I could think to get closer to you. I even flew to San Francisco to talk to your pastor. I made a committment two weeks ago.”

  “Oh, Jordan.” Her voice wobbled as she bit down on her lower lip.

  “I’ll ask you again, Skye. I love you. I don’t promise to do everything right, but I’m willing to be the best husband I know how to be with God’s help.” A humility entered his voice. “Will you be my wife?”

  She floated into his arms, as if it was the most natural thing in the world. “Yes, oh, Jordan, a thousand times, yes.”

  She was crushed against him as he claimed her mouth in a devouring kiss that seemed to blot out all the hurt and anger of the past few weeks. Instinctively she wound her arms around his neck, arching against him. When he dragged his lips from hers and buried his face in the hollow of her neck, she could feel the uneven drag of his breath. Clinging to him, she closed her eyes while an overwhelming happiness stole over her.

  “Thank you, Jesus,” she murmured almost inaudibly.

  Gently his hand caressed her cheek, then framed her face.

  She couldn’t speak as she gazed into his powerful face with all the love in her heart shining in her eyes.

  Four months later Skye surveyed the dining room table carefully set for the Thanksgiving dinner. Mentally she checked every detail; she wanted this day to be perfect. She’d met Jordan’s family on several occasions, but this was the first time they’d all gathered together.

  Mrs. Somers, the housekeeper, was a jewel, and Skye couldn’t have managed the large meal without her. The middle-aged woman had been with Jordan for years and welcomed Skye like a mother hen gathering a chick under her wing. Skye had felt awkward at first. Jordan didn’t need her to keep his home, and she felt at loose ends with so much time on her hands. He didn’t object when she began substitute teaching, but more and more she found herself involved in their church. Their outside activities would be curtailed soon enough, she decided.

  One last glance revealed an elegant table set with fresh flowers and sparkling crystal. It was Thanksgiving, and her heart was full of praise for God’s goodness to them both.

  Jordan had to make a quick trip to the office, and while she waited for his return she wandered into the music room to play the grand piano. Her nimble fingers flew over the ivory keys with unquestionable skill; if anything, her love for Jordan had enhanced her musical talent.

  How she’d come to love this room of their home. She recalled her first glimpse of the twenty-six-room mansion. Driving through the long driveway after their extended honeymoon in the Caribbean, the house loomed before her, elegant, imposing, and huge. At first sight Skye felt a tremor of apprehension.

  Jordan had come around to her side of the car, opened her door, and lifted her effortlessly into his arms, prepared to observe tradition by carrying her over the threshold.

  When Skye glanced at him, she discovered he was watching her reaction. “This is our home?” she quizzed softly.

  “It’s not as awesome as it looks,” he assured her.

  “I’d rather live in a three-bedroom rambler.” Their happiness had been so complete during their honeymoon, and now she was faced with the realities of his wealth and position.

  “I know. But things being as they are, will you take me as I am?” An unfamiliar quality entered his eyes. “Christ did, you know.”

  “Then I suppose I’ll have to,” she whispered, and planted a warm kiss on his open mouth before exploring the lobe of his ear with her tongue.

  “I’m back.” Jordan broke into her thoughts, walking briskly into the rose-colored room.

  Skye lifted her hands from the keyboard, smiling at her husband with a happiness that was almost translucent. “Listen to this,” she commanded as her fingers flew over the keys in a melody she hoped would express her love.

  “It’s beautiful,” Jordan said, his eyes showing the special kind of awe he felt when he listened to her music.

  “I’m trying to tell you something, and I honestly didn’t think it would be this difficult.”

  His expression sobered. “You mean that you’re pregnant? Did you honestly think I wouldn’t know?” Suddenly, as if the thought had come to him all at once, he asked, “Everything is all right, isn’t it? You’re going to be okay?” His voice was deep with emotion.

  “Of course I will.” She quickly allayed his fears.

  Drawing her tenderly into his arms, he held her close. “I love you, Skye. I didn’t know it was possible to feel this deeply about anyone. You’ve become my life.” His kiss was sweet and filled with passion. “How long do we have before my mother arrives?”

  “Jordan,” she said, giggling. “Not now … later,” she whispered, her voice filled with promise.

  She could sense his regret as he gently broke their embrace. “Did you know I owned your apartment building?” he asked unexpectedly. “I’m in the process of selling it. That’s why I had to go to the office this morning.”

  “Jordan, no!” She was shocked. This man had a habit of saying the most astonishing things. “When … why?”

  He chuckled, as if he found himself very clever. “It was the only way I knew to get rid of your pesky neighbor. I bought the building and raised his rent.”

  Skye’s mouth must have dropped open.

  “Careful, dear, someone might think you’re imitating a fish.”

  “Jordan!” She could hardly find words. “Is … is there anything else I don’t know?”

  “I don’t think so. Oh, yes, I hope the mechanic did a good job on your car. I threatened to have his cer
tification questioned.”

  “You didn’t?”

  “ ’Fraid so.” He chuckled. “But don’t worry, I’m learning a new way to deal with people. It’s called love, Christian love.”

  Her fingers lovingly traced the line of his jaw. “Sometimes you shock me, Jordan Murphy.”

  He smiled deep into her eyes. “Oh my, you’re beautiful.”

  She slid her arms around his neck and smiled with intense satisfaction. “Tell me that seven months from now. I’ll need to hear it about then.”

  “A child,” he murmured as if he was just beginning to fully comprehend this new life growing within his wife. “I have something beyond price: you, a child, and God’s love. You’ve given me everything a man could ever want.”

  Jordan’s arm tightened around her waist, and Skye happened to catch a glimpse of the dining room table. Thanksgiving: She now understood the full meaning of the word.

  Read on for an excerpt from Debbie Macomber’s

  Starting Now

  Chapter 1

  This was it. Surely it must be.

  The instant Libby Morgan heard her paralegal tell her “Hershel would like to see you in his office,” she knew. Oh, there’d been rumblings around the office about layoffs and early retirements. Such gossip simply verified what she felt in her heart Hershel was sure to tell her. She’d waited for this moment for six very long years.

  Libby had always wondered how she’d feel when she finally got the news. She longed to hold on to this sense of happy expectation for as long as possible. In retrospect, she must have intuitively known something was up because she’d worn her best pin-striped suit today, choosing the pencil skirt over her normal tailored slacks. And thankfully she’d had a salon appointment just the day before. Getting her hair cut was long overdue, but seeing how good it looked now, she felt it was worth every penny of the hundred dollars Jacques had charged her. A good cut did wonders for her appearance. She wore her dark brown hair parted in the middle in an inverted bob so that it framed her face, curling around her jawline. Jacques had mentioned more than once how fortunate she was to have such thick hair. She hadn’t felt that way when he’d insisted she have her eyebrows plucked. But he’d been right; she looked good. Polished. Professional. She promised herself not to go so long between appointments again.

 

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