Love Inspired December 2014 - Box Set 1 of 2: A Rancher for ChristmasHer Montana ChristmasAn Amish Christmas JourneyYuletide Baby

by Brenda Minton

  Oh, would he pray. He’d pray that God would give her wisdom and courage. He’d pray that the Shaws would know the truth when they heard it. He’d pray that she would at last be able to claim the family for which she so obviously longed. He’d pray that Jackson’s conscience wouldn’t let him do the wrong thing. Mostly, though, he’d pray that God would make a way for her to stay in Jasper Gulch, long enough at least for Ethan to confess all she needed to know about him.

  He wouldn’t ask that she open her heart to him or that her family somehow approve of a minister who’d come from the wrong side of the tracks in L.A. He asked only that he be able to repay her trust in kind. Because anything else was simply unthinkable now.

  Meanwhile, it was time he got serious about revealing his true self to his own congregation. The results of that he would leave entirely to God. It wasn’t up to Jackson Shaw how long or short a time Ethan spent in Jasper Gulch. That was God’s call alone, and somehow Ethan had to make Robin understand that elemental truth about his calling—one he himself had been in danger of forgetting until God had brought a certain wonderful young lady into his life.

  Chapter Eleven

  That Sunday, Ethan used the text about Joseph and Mary fleeing into Egypt with the newborn baby Jesus to talk about second chances. He compared Herod’s slaughter of male children in an effort to kill the foretold Hebrew king to the gang violence in his own old Los Angeles–area neighborhood. He talked about how common it was for his neighbors and classmates to have family members in jail. Then he admitted that he’d counted himself fortunate not to be among them, only to have his father wind up in prison for manslaughter while he was away in college. He didn’t mention Colleen or that his brother-in-law had been his father’s victim. He did freely admit that only the influence of a tough, seasoned pastor had saved him, Ethan, from the streets and guided him to a better way of life. Ethan then contrasted his own “moment of calling” to Joseph being warned in a dream.

  “God still speaks to us,” he proclaimed, “in ways both big and small. You have but to listen and to want to hear what He actually has to say. Too often,” he pointed out, “we only hear what we want to hear, and then we have the audacity to say that God no longer speaks.”

  Robin, at least, seemed visibly moved, but then, she already knew the story. She came at once to his side after the sermon, taking a place next to him at the back of the sanctuary. The McGuires were right behind her.

  “You’re not just a surfer boy after all,” Mick McGuire said as he pumped Ethan’s hand.

  “Not much of a surfer at all, in fact,” Ethan replied.

  “First-rate preacher, though,” Mick stated, moving off with a grin.

  Jack reached past Olivia to offer his own hand, saying, “I’ll second that.”

  “Thanks, Jack.”

  “That wasn’t the typical Sunday-before-Christmas sermon, though,” Olivia said, lifting her eyebrows.

  “But a fine one,” Jack insisted. “I knew there was depth to you, Ethan. I just didn’t know how much.”

  “More than you may suspect,” Ethan warned, still smiling as the McGuires filed past on their way out of the sanctuary.

  “Enough, I’ll warrant, to make you stick around and do well in these parts,” said another, all-too-familiar voice. Beside him, Ethan felt Robin cringe as she faced the Shaws.

  “Thank you, Mr. Mayor,” Ethan returned easily. “That’s a welcome vote of confidence.”

  “We like our pastors with bottom,” Jackson said in his hearty baritone. “No one wants a pastor without a firm foundation beneath him.” Standing an inch or so taller than Ethan’s own six feet, the mayor cut an imposing figure. Broad-shouldered and long-limbed, he’d have been barrel-chested with just a little more weight. His wavy dark brown hair showed silver at the temples in deference to his sixtysome years, but his pale blue eyes held all the steel of a much younger man. “You’ll do,” he told Ethan, his gaze gliding over Robin with interest.

  Ethan wrapped an arm around her waist and squeezed encouragingly. To his surprise, he felt her square her shoulders.

  An instant later, she stepped out of his embrace and said, “Mayor Shaw, would it be possible for me to meet with you, your wife and children this afternoon?”

  Ethan caught his breath. Had she finally decided to tell the Shaws why she had come to Jasper Gulch?

  Jackson seemed taken aback. “Well, I…” He looked to his wife, Nadine.

  “Of course,” Nadine said, putting on a polite smile. “But if this is about the wedding decorations, we’re fine with everything but the pageant set.”

  “Uh, actually this is sort of a…historical issue,” Robin hedged.

  Ethan sent up a silent prayer of praise as the Shaws exchanged glances.

  “You need the family for that?” Jackson asked. “Isn’t that more of a museum issue?”

  “Um, well, the Shaws are integral to the situation, you see,” Robin said, gulping. “It’s, ah, difficult to explain, but I’ll try to be brief.”

  Jackson shrugged and said, “Might as well come for dinner.”

  “Oh, no.” Robin shook her head. “I couldn’t possibly.”

  “Can you come about two-thirty or three, then?” Nadine asked. “That should give us time to finish up and clear away, but any later than that and everyone will scatter.”

  “Before three,” Robin answered.

  “See you then,” the mayor said, offering his arm to Nadine.

  They walked off, their heads together.

  Ethan reached out and squeezed Robin’s hand. She stood beside him as he greeted several more people. Every comment about the sermon was positive, and he thanked God for them, even as he felt Robin drawing up tighter and tighter beside him. Oh, if only her own attempt at revelation would work out so well.

  Sensing her turmoil, Ethan squeezed her hand. “Help me close up,” he said, “then you can join me for Sunday dinner. Unless you have other plans.”

  “That would be most welcome,” she admitted. “Otherwise I fear I’ll lose my nerve.”

  “For what it’s worth,” he told her, “I think you’re doing the right thing.”

  “Bless you for saying so.”

  “I hope you’ll bless me still if the roast beef is shriveled into blackened hockey pucks,” he joked. Or if the Shaws do not welcome you into the family.

  Chuckling, she moved away to switch off lights. He went to start locking doors and pray that her joy would far surpass his before all was said and done.

  *

  Within a quarter hour they were bundling into their outerwear. Leaving her hybrid in the church parking lot, they simply walked over to the neat little white bungalow that was the parsonage. Guessing that it was built in the early 1940s, Robin took in the deep front porch across the front, the multipaned door standing between two large windows and the dormer window upstairs that overlooked the front yard.

  Ethan surprised her by walking up the steps and across the porch to turn the knob on a door that he’d clearly left unlocked. Robin blinked at that.

  “What?” he asked. “This is Jasper Gulch, and I don’t have much worth taking anyway.”

  “But you’re so careful to lock up the church.”

  “That’s different. That’s God’s house. It can’t be left to unthinking vandals. Besides, I’ve been talking to the governing board about building a small chapel that can be left open for prayer and shelter. God’s house should always be available to those in need, even when no one can be on hand. Don’t you think?”

  She smiled. “I do, now that you mention it. And what does the board say?”

  He lifted his eyebrows. “Mayor Shaw is of the opinion that any fund-raising project ought to wait until after the centennial celebrations conclude.”

  “Well, that’s ten days away.”

  “So it is.” With that, he pushed open the door, revealing the polished wood of a central hall that ran almost the full length of the house. They stepped inside, and he closed t
he door behind them. The staircase started at the back of the hall, rising above them and making a space for a coat closet next to a door with glass insets. He took her coat and hung it with his in the tiny closet beneath the stairs, stowing her handbag on the shelf above the rod.

  “The best thing about this house is the study,” he said, indicating the room behind the door with the glass insets. “It has great shelving for my books, and looks out onto the porch so I can always see who’s come to call.” He gestured to the room opposite.

  The wide, open archway required no door. His one Christmas decoration was a somewhat tattered crocheted angel that hung from the apex of the arch.

  “It used to belong to my mother,” he explained, inviting her into the living room with a wave of his hand.

  Though smallish, the living room was cozy and comfortable with the rock fireplace and its impressive, if narrow, hearth. Opening off the living room stood the dining room, and beyond that, the kitchen. Across from the dining room, with a slanted door beneath the narrow staircase, was a bedroom, which opened into the study and a bathroom at the back of the house. Upstairs was a single large bedroom with a roomy closet and a second more modern bath.

  “Such a lot of doors,” Robin said, coming back down the narrow stairs.

  “Mmm-hmm, but it works. They packed a lot of house into a relatively small space, didn’t they?”

  “They certainly did.”

  “Let me check our dinner, then I’ll show you my second-favorite part of the house,” he said, leading her back to the kitchen.

  Dinner turned out to be slices of frozen roast beef in gravy, along with baking potatoes and cans of carrots and green beans sitting on the counter. While he checked the entrée, peeling back the foil lid on the disposable tin pan, she looked around. White-painted cabinets and floors gave the room a bright, clean aura, while pale granite countertops and almond-colored appliances kept the space from feeling surgical. She’d have added some fluttery curtains and a few pots of fresh herbs, along with a selection of attractive dish towels and pot holders.

  The rest of the house could use some personal touches, too. The living room contained only a nice flat-screen television, a comfortable, if worn, leather chair and a tweed sofa that had seen better days, with a single occasional table between them. The bed downstairs had no headboard. The dresser was rickety, and Ethan used a dining chair as a bedside table and clotheshorse. Her favorite pieces in the house were the antique dining table, china cabinet, which was empty, and chairs. He set the dark cherrywood table with place mats and simple white plates, tan napkins and inexpensive flatware. When she asked, he told her that he’d bought the dining suite and desk from the previous pastor, who’d felt they were too large for his new place in Colorado.

  Ethan turned off the oven, opened cans, dumped the contents into bowls and set the bowls into the microwave to heat before herding her into the small mudroom. Leaning down, he hooked a finger in a hole in one of the floorboards, all of which were painted in the back part of the house, and hoisted it upward. An entire section of floor folded back on hinges, revealing a second narrow staircase. He hit a switch, and a light flickered on below, revealing a room ringed with shelves.

  Robin went down in front of him to find herself in a well-lit storage area. Someone had set up a workbench, but she didn’t see many tools there now. Instead, Ethan had put in a weight bench and boxing bag. His gloves lay on the workbench.

  “Welcome to the Johnson gym,” he said. She laughed. “Or the root cellar, as the church ladies call it.”

  “A root cellar?” Robin parroted. “I don’t think so. What great storage, though.”

  “Next to the study and the bedroom, I spend more time here than anywhere else in the house.”

  She shot him an amused look. “That’s a very ‘guy’ admission.”

  “Ahem,” he said behind his fist, edging forward. “In case you haven’t noticed, I happen to be a guy.”

  She smiled. “I have noticed.”

  “Yeah? Well, I happened to have noticed that you’re not.”

  “Very observant.” She giggled.

  Above them, the faint ding of the microwave sounded. Ethan rubbed his forehead, murmuring, “Dinner, such as it is, is served.” He grabbed her hand and towed her toward the stairs and then up them.

  They worked quickly, side by side, to get the food on the table. Ethan had slices right out of the bag for bread, but Robin didn’t mind. The meal sat before them on folded towels to protect the surface of the table, and Robin smiled to think that under any other circumstances she might have found the simple, mundane fare unappetizing, but here with Ethan, her hand in his as they bowed for prayer, she didn’t want to be anywhere else in the world. No menu, however exotic or sumptuous, could have tempted her away from his side at that moment.

  Once before, he’d planned a Sunday dinner for them, and she’d ruined it from fear of the truth. All through the meal, as he served her, playing host with genial ease, she imagined what it would be like to live here in this funny little house with Ethan. As he wielded his knife and fork, chatting and laughing, distracting her from the difficult chore ahead, she began to truly understand what she would really be giving up by leaving here, by leaving him. While eating, drinking, watching her in eloquent silence or holding her attention with teasing banter, he effectively tore out her heart, for none of this would ever be hers. Even if he should come to care for her in the same way that she had come to care for him, what she was about to do would almost assuredly be the end of any hope for them.

  If Rusty was right, Jackson had stolen the time capsule, taken the gold, returned the historical papers and the container and let others be blamed for the crime. He had also done all in his power to thwart the repair and reopening of the Beaver Creek Bridge for decades now for no other reason than Shaw family honor; he’d promised his grandfather, who had promised his father, that the bridge would remain closed. Jackson was heir to the people who had killed the bells that hung in the belfry across the street because they’d been donated by an old friend turned enemy. The kind of stubbornness that had made Lucy fake her own death and stay away for nearly ninety long years did not leave a lot of room for forgiveness and acceptance. Jackson had wielded his power as mayor for decades, riding roughshod over anyone who bucked his policies. Why would he tolerate a woman who proclaimed the basic tenet of his family history to be a lie?

  If they could keep it within the family, she might have a chance to coexist. Even if Jackson didn’t believe her, he might leave her alone so long as no one else knew about her claims, but she couldn’t trust Rusty to keep what he knew to himself indefinitely. Once her story became public, people would naturally take sides. Some would not believe her, but some would, and that Jackson could not abide. All her dealings with him in the past told her that. What she feared most was that Ethan would come out on her side, and Jackson would go after him in an attempt to discredit her.

  Only the intervention of God Himself could prevent such a disaster.

  And why should He bother? Robin knew in her heart of hearts that she did not possess the purity of Mary, the mother of Jesus, or the faith of Joseph. All she had at the moment were doubts and fears for Ethan. She no longer cared what the Shaws might say or do to her. She only cared what might happen to Ethan. He deserved success in his first pastorate. He deserved happiness. He loved Jasper Gulch. This had become his home, and he should be able to stay here and enjoy all the respect and support that were his due.

  She had seen firsthand today what sort of pastor he could be, how powerfully he could bring the word of God alive for the people, how greatly they respected him for it. How could she possibly let anyone damage that?

  Rusty assumed that Lucy would want Robin to have her share of the gold, but Lucy had spoken only of family to Robin. Plus, Lucy had given up everything for the man she loved. She had protected him in the only way she knew how. Robin could do no less.

  As they cleared up the dinner lef
tovers and stacked the dishes in the dishwasher, Robin pondered the situation and wondered if she was making a mistake by telling the Shaws the truth. She’d been so moved by Ethan’s sermon, so challenged by his courage, that she’d acted impulsively, and now she was having second thoughts.

  “They’ve lived all this time believing Lucy was dead, and they’d never have an opportunity to know her now, so what harm is there in letting them go on believing that she died that day in 1926?” Robin asked.

  “It isn’t the truth.”

  “The bridge is going to reopen anyway!” she argued.

  “And what of Rusty, sweetheart?”

  “He’s kept her secret this long,” she insisted. “Let him take it to his grave.”

  “He was protecting Lucy,” Ethan pointed out softly. “She no longer needs his protection. It’s unfair to ask him to carry that lie any further. And what of you? Are you to live with the lie, as well?”

  “If I must,” she said, lifting her chin.

  “Please don’t be bound by your fear for me.”

  She gulped and looked away. “What kind of person would I be if I didn’t consider the ramifications of my actions on my friends?”

  “Robin, you don’t know what Jackson Shaw will do.”

  “I know what he’s capable of.”

  “We’re all capable of great foolishness and even evil, Robin,” Ethan pointed out. “Otherwise, the redemptive action of the cross would not have been necessary. I myself have suffered great failures, of which you know nothing.”

  “You’re not responsible for your father’s actions, Ethan.”

  “That’s not the point. The point is, Jackson may surprise you. I’ve seen it before.”

  “How can I take the chance?”

  “Just try to have a little faith. God has a way of working things out for our best, even bad things.”

  “Still,” she argued, “if we can prevent the bad in the first place, isn’t that best?”