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She and Sam.
Visions of her mother kneeling in the warm soil, tending the roses, flashed through her mind. Her mother always hummed as she worked, her dainty hand sifting the soil with loving care. Emma could bring those roses back to life—she could make them even more beautiful than Momma’s—a visual tribute to the woman who loved blooming annuals. To the Mansi women: Lully, Mom, and Emma. Now wouldn’t that be ironic.
The tearoom would be lovely—maybe not profitable, but money was no longer an issue. And she would take care of Elizabeth and the bookstore until her dying day. The thrill of holding old hardback books in her hands—pages that had endured the ages, passages those other eyes had read—enthralled her. Slick new paperbacks and e-books served a busy world, but they couldn’t replace antiquity.
If she moved back, she could spend more time with Janice, help her get her life straightened out. Ken and Janice. Emma grinned. The two names fit like oil and water.
She mentally ticked off the pluses as she entered the gate area and waited for the boarding call.
Behind the security check, Sam Gold stood by the window watching the woman he loved. Emma looked small and lost sitting in the nearly empty C-Gate One waiting area.
Why had he let her walk away a second time? He’d kicked himself for letting her go the first time, and now he was letting her leave again. But he couldn’t force love; he’d found that out over the years. Until Emma gave herself to their relationship, he wouldn’t budge. Sometimes you’re lucky enough to find that one right person; sometimes you’re not. Often you go through life searching and hoping and looking for the perfect fit, but it seldom appears twice.
Thirty-four was pushing the scale a little. He had to stop looking for Emma in every woman; he had to stop hoping. She was boarding a plane in five minutes. She’d be back, but that would be more agonizing than seeing her leave this time. In the future she’d be leaving over and over again. To have her so close—but yet so far away …
If she loved him, she would make the declaration. He’d made his; he’d thought it through and the answer hadn’t come out the way he’d liked, but she knew where he stood.
Yet she needed time.
Time.
How long was time to her? To him it was a million years, standing here, his throat tight with emotion. What could he do to make her stay? to make her realize that they belonged together? Should he swoop into the waiting area like a deranged lover and demand that she stay? make a fool of himself in public, and in uniform? If that’s what it took, he’d gladly make the sacrifice, but Emma was a tough nut to crack. He’d misjudged her once; he wasn’t going to make the same mistake twice. If she loved him—and she did, he saw it in her eyes every time she looked at him—then she would have to convince herself he was trustworthy.
“Ladies and gentlemen, we are about to begin boarding flight 597 to Seattle. First-class passengers and those with children or needing extra time …”
Emma turned and peered over her shoulder at the waiting room. Her eyes traveled to the coffee shop across the way. Oh, Sam, if you loved me you’d be here. You’d demand that I stay.
“All passengers please have your boarding passes ready.”
Emma stood up, searching the main pedestrian area. Time was running out. Passengers hurried by to catch other flights. Biting her lip, she closed her eyes and whispered, “I know I’ve been foolish, dear God, but please let him come. Please don’t let me walk away from the only man who had ever loved me unconditionally—”
I love you unconditionally.
“I know—I’m sorry—I mean here … on earth.”
“Rows fifteen through twenty-five can now board.”
Emma glanced at her ticket. Blither. She was row twenty-four. She had to board now. Picking up her cosmetics case, purse, and picture, she started down the jetway, tears blurring her eyes. She turned around abruptly and bumped smack into a fellow passenger. Murmuring an apology, she turned back around and kept walking.
He’s not coming. He’s not coming.
Sam watched Emma disappear through the doorway. A grown man didn’t cry, especially a county sheriff, but he knew one who was about to set an embarrassing precedent.
Moving back to the window, he put his hand flat on the glass, as if to touch her one last time. His eyes scanned the small windows of the departing plane. He could see figures moving down the aisle, passengers straining to push overloaded luggage into cramped overhead bins. He saw Emma take a seat by the window at the back of the plane. He stared at her, trying to get his fill. It wasn’t possible to plug the empty hole she’d left in his heart. He turned his head, wiping his eyes on his sleeves.
Backing away from the window, he sat down. He wouldn’t leave until the plane took off, until he saw the jet stream fade into the distance. Only then would he accept that she was gone.
The clerk stood at the passenger desk, counting tickets. The door to the jetway closed, and a pretty attendant locked it.
Sam stared at his boots. They needed a good polish. There were traces of mud from yesterday’s snow. Moisture blurred his vision.
Inside the plane, Emma put her earphones on, leaned back, and closed her eyes as the flight steward closed the first-class drapes. She turned her face toward the window, not wanting the other passengers to see her cry.
The wheels of the Boeing touched down at Seattle-Tacoma International at 6:14 P.M. The big tires squealed down the tarmac, engines reversing thrust. Passengers remained seated, seat belts intact until American flight 597 taxied to the gate and parked.
Emma unbuckled her belt and gathered her personal belongings. She waited until the door was opened and passenger rows systematically filed out. She felt drained. Emotionally unstable and downright out of sorts. Why had Sam not tried harder to stop her from leaving? Why hadn’t he just once chosen to fight for her? That moment was what she waited for, this was what it would take for her to fully trust him, trust his love. For him to fight for her—now. And he hadn’t come through.
The rows slowly emptied, and Emma stood up and maneuvered through the narrow aisle. Emerging from the jetway into the terminal she stopped short. Standing at the gate, arms crossed, Sam stared at her. Her jaw dropped.
“As I was saying,” he said calmly as she approached, “we can make it this time. I’m not taking no for an answer.”
Her heart suddenly flipped a somersault. Passengers bumped into her, jostled and stepped on her toes, but she stood rooted to the floor, staring at the man she loved more than life itself. She finally salvaged her voice. “How … ?”
“I bought a ticket. It cost me first class but it was worth it.” He frowned. “If that isn’t love, I don’t know what is.”
Warmth began to creep through her, slow and sweet and so wonderfully exhilarating. He hadn’t let her go this time. This time he’d come after her. Thank you, God.
Clearing her throat, she said softly, “Sam… that thing you said about we could make it this time?”
“Yeah?” He took both her hands, ignoring the rude travelers shoving their way through the terminal.
“Well you see … I have this gaping hole inside me that I—”
He stopped her. “Me too.” His eyes adored her as they stood facing each other, the future—their future—hanging in balance. “I think we’re going to start filling holes with love and acceptance instead of anger and resentment—with the understanding that God has given us the opportunity to choose how we fill the hole. With gratitude for the good times—because we’ve had those too, Emma. With conscious effort we can fill in those ugly holes and move on.”
For the briefest of moments, the world stopped for Emma. There was only Sam—the way it had always been. “Yeah … well …” She sighed, licking a salty tear with her tongue. “We’re going to have to buy awfully big shovels.”
A smile touched the corners of his eyes. “I’m sort of partial to hardware stores. What about you?”
“I hate hardware stores.” A sob caugh
t in her throat.
“Fine. We’ll buy them elsewhere. The point is we buy them. Right?”
“Right,” she conceded. “The tearoom … I could make something of that, Sam. Like us, it could be good—really good.”
“Roses will bloom again for you, Emma. I promise.”
Sam lifted her off her feet and swung her around in a bear hug. “I thought you had left me a second time,” he whispered. “I told God I would argue with him on this one.”
Laughing through a veil of tears, she pressed her mouth to his ear. “God is so faithful. He never leaves us. It’s taken me fifteen years to discover that. If you’re asking me to marry you, I accept.”
He kissed her hungrily, making a spectacle in front of the two amused airline employees.
“I love you, Emma Mansi,” he whispered between frenzied snatches of kisses.
Playfully grasping his ears, she drew him nose to nose. “This time it’s for keeps.”
Their gazes locked. In the depths of his eyes she saw everything she needed to know. She didn’t need any more assurances.
This time they had it right.
A Note from the Author
Dear Reader,
I am delighted to finally tell the story of Emma and Sam. So often while I was in the process of writing this story I thought of how my life parallels Emma’s and how often I have to rein up and allow God to work freely in my life. Emma felt that life had dealt her a raw deal, and she had a hard time believing God loved her. She blamed everyone for wrecking her life, and she retreated into a “safe,” sterile world that was only an illusion. Although God promises that he has nothing but good for us, some days can look bleak, can’t they? Emma was so certain God forgot her that she forgot to trust.
But God doesn’t forget. What Father could forget his child, even when she finds herself in the middle of trials and troubles? Like Emma, I’ve discovered I can’t possibly know the good the Lord has in store for me, for his grace and love know no bounds if I will trust—trust until it hurts and the Lord has an opportunity to work in my life.
I hope your trust, like Emma’s, was deeper by the time you read the last page of this story. God is good—all the time. All the time, God is good!
About the Author
Lori Copeland has published more than ninety romance novels and has won numerous awards for her books. Writing in the Christian market allows her the freedom to write stories that express her love of God and her personal convictions.
Lori lives with her husband, Lance, in the beautiful Ozarks. She has three sons, three daughters-in-law, and seven exceptionally bright grandchildren—but then, she freely admits to being partial when it comes to her family.
Lori enjoys reading biographies and cruises—she can’t get enough of cruises. Through her books, she hopes to share her faith with others.
Table of Contents
Cover
Title
Copyright
Epigraph
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
A Note from the Author
About the Author