Now, in early June, before St. Simon’s Island baked in the summer sun, before throngs of vacationers descended on the island, it was time to tie a wedding bow to their relationship.
Brinley paused to give thanks to God.
Her breath caught when a distant violin solo rose above the sounds of summer morning, above the rolling waves and squawking gulls, above the rapid beatings of her heart.
Our song.
It was coming from the pavilion, a siren song calling to her, filling her mind and heart with memories of that dinner party before Christmas when she’d felt a connection with Ivan, of New Year’s Eve kisses and winter heartbreaks and spring restorations.
She wondered which SISO violinist was doing the honors. That was an unexpected surprise that the wedding planner must’ve thrown in. Brinley hadn’t wanted any violin at the wedding because she was afraid it would make Ivan sad that it could be a very long time before his tendons and wrist were healed enough for him to play the violin the same way he used to.
Now this piece coming over the warming breeze sounded almost as good as Ivan playing it that evening in December.
Surely Ivan must’ve approved it. Or someone was playing a trick on their emotions. Whatever. It was too late now. Brinley told herself to go with the flow.
Give me strength, God, to last through the ceremony so I can relax.
“Ready to go, Brinley Brin?” Dad tapped his walking stick. He was determined to walk her down the aisle and so here he was. In typical Dad fashion, the walking stick itself was more expensive than her wedding gown. Brinley had practiced walking in her laced tulle trumpet gown of pure white silk, but she still prayed she wouldn’t trip and fall on the boardwalk before she reached the pavilion and beach.
Brinley linked her arm with Dad’s, and they made the slow procession down the sidewalk, onto the boardwalk. All the time Bach’s Air on the G String grew ever louder, pushing away all other sounds of the seaside.
Too bad Ivan hadn’t played any violins lately. Or at least she hadn’t heard him play. Every time she had asked, he said he was getting his wrist strength back. Brinley had been praying for his wrist to heal completely, but it was all in God’s hands now.
She was grateful, however, that Ivan hadn’t abandoned music altogether. In the two months since he had reopened his music studio it was all coming along nicely. Business had picked up after he renamed it Yun McMillan Studios and started advertising to unexpected places.
And surprise, surprise, Mom was taking piano lessons from Ivan. She’d been so enamored by Ivan’s charm and teaching ability that she had been telling all her friends up and down coastal Georgia about her new music teacher. Pretty soon those friends were practicing hard so they could play a severely simplified version of Franz Liszt’s Liebestraum No. 3 on their Christie’s or Sotheby’s concert grand finds.
Brinley inched forward at Dad’s pace. Between the sea oats and dunes, the boardwalk seemed to stretch forever. She was determined to get to the pavilion and beyond, where everyone was waiting for them on the beach this beautiful, clear, sunny, bright morning.
“Remember, Brinley Brin.” Dad choked up. “Your husband should love you as Christ loves the church and sacrificed Himself for her. If Ivan falls short, call me, and I’ll whack him with my new diamond-encrusted titanium walking stick.”
“Dad!” Brinley wiped a tear from her eye. “You’re messing up my eyeliner.”
“Nah. You look beautiful.”
The closer they came to the pavilion, the louder the violin solo was. It was a deep, clear, distinct sound that only—
And then she saw him.
He was all she saw.
The sea and surf and sky behind him vanished into the clouds.
All Brinley saw was Ivan standing in the sand, his left hand out of cast and brace, fingers moving up and down the strings of what looked like a very old violin.
Brinley’s knees buckled and she tightened her grip on Dad’s arm as they stepped off the pavilion and onto the packed sands of St. Simon’s Island. She didn’t even think about bits of sand getting into her toes and into the laced hems of her wedding gown. All she could think of was his wrist.
Thank You, God, for healing his left hand.
All those months of therapy and wrist rehabilitation had paid off, but Brinley hadn’t expected him to play their song this soon. Coming out of the church building and hearing it, it hadn’t cross her mind at all that Ivan himself would be doing this. He must’ve been practicing for weeks. She knew the wrist had been giving him trouble still. He had been in pain every time he turned it.
Why is he doing this now?
Brinley inched toward Ivan, the measures and melody all running together, louder and louder in her ears as her heart beat faster and faster.
She quickened her pace down the aisle between two groups of white folding chairs.
Have to get to him!
Somehow Dad kept up with his walking stick, drawing lines on the sand.
There at the end of the aisle, a simple arch framed Pastor Gonzalez. Ivan kept his eyes on her and his fingers on the violin. Behind him, Quincy was on the cello, providing accompaniment. Behind the arch was the sea and sky. The sun rose higher.
Brinley smiled to Ivan as he continued his serenade. His eyes sparkled in the sunshine. Those brownish, greenish, dark hazel eyes of his were on her. He grinned.
Thank God that’s not a grimace.
Walking down the aisle, Brinley spotted a dark-haired woman in her fifties standing in the back. She was looking straight at Brinley. She had Ivan’s nose. Or Ivan had her nose. And those soft curls in her hair reminded her of Willow’s. There was Willow, two rows up near Skye Langston and Olivia Gonzalez. Across the aisle, Tobias Vega winked at her, and his dad waved. Somewhere, Brinley would like to think that Meg Zimmerman was here too, and not at the office this fine Saturday
Brinley smiled to Zoe near the front, sitting beside Aunt Ella and her beau, Hiram, and Mom, sobbing into her embroidered French silk handkerchief. Everyone was here.
Everyone except Yun McMillan…
But Brinley’s thoughts went back to the woman in the back she had passed by. Could that be Jade McMillan? Brinley turned to her again. The woman smiled back, nodding. It was Ivan’s smile. And Yun’s.
Does Ivan know?
There he was, still playing in perfect time. He had timed it so well that he finished playing the last note as Brinley reached him. She figured he probably picked up the pace or slowed down as she made her way across the sand toward him. She suspected that Dad was an accomplice in the scheme. Ivan probably timed the tune according to his pace.
When Ivan put down his violin, Brinley squinted at it. The carvings on the side. She recognized those.
Could it be?
She watched Ivan hand over the violin and bow to Matt Garnett who looked spiffy as his best man. He put it into a carved dark brown leather case which Brinley had seen before in photographs.
She stared at the leather case. It had that distinct design. Hard to believe the 1698 Damaris Brooks Stradivarius was finally home. She turned to Dad as if to ask something, but when she saw that Dad could barely speak, she clammed up as he handed Brinley’s hand to Ivan.
Ivan leaned down to her ear as if he’d sensed her thoughts and whispered, “Our song on the Damaris Strad as I’ve promised.”
Brinley wished she hadn’t nixed the veil. It would have veiled her tears. Her voice was a whisper. “All this time…?”
“Only the last several weeks,” he whispered in her ear. “We’ll talk all about it later.”
Pastor Gonzalez cleared his throat. “No kissing yet.”
Everyone laughed.
Realization struck Brinley. This was the wedding present from Grandpa Brooks. The one that he had promised her more than ten years prior if she kept her end of the bargain. And she had, with much heartaches along the way. Had her vow of purity been worth it?
Yes!
But not for t
he heirloom violin.
She gazed at the man of her dreams. So peaceful and tranquil was his mien. So happy to be there.
She was too. And she knew then that they were God’s gift to each other. Their journey continued, but oh, how far had they come as Ivan learned to trust God for his career and family, and as Brinley learned to trust God for Ivan and their future together.
Brinley locked her gloved hand in Ivan’s warm and strong and steady fingers as they moved forward toward Pastor Gonzalez, toward new beginnings, new seasons, and a new life together as husband and wife in Christ, the glory and joy and music of their hearts.
Farewell from Ivan and Brinley
Trust in the Lord with all thine heart; and lean not unto thine own understanding. In all thy ways acknowledge him, and he shall direct thy paths. Be not wise in thine own eyes: fear the Lord, and depart from evil.
—PROVERBS 3:5-7
Thank You for Reading!
Thank you for reading Share with Me, book 1 in Jan Thompson’s Seaside Chapel series of novels.
Your honest review of Share with Me at your favorite book retailer would be appreciated and would help introduce new readers to the Seaside Chapel series of sweet, clean, and wholesome Christian fiction.
* * *
While Share with Me has a thread of violin music in it, the next novel in Seaside Chapel will include another instrument of the orchestra.
Turn the page for a sneak peek of Step with Me (Seaside Chapel Book 2)…
A Preview of STEP WITH ME
Seaside Chapel Book 2
A thirty-something restaurateur barters with his sister’s friend to be his summer rent-a-girlfriend so that he can win back his ex-fiancée and business partner who is now seeing another man.
* * *
The Desperate:
“It’s past time for Talia to make the right decision. I don’t want to wait forever. I want a big wedding, a long honeymoon, and a house full of kids. What? Why can’t I nudge her in the right direction? Yeah, I know she’s already dumped me and moved on with whatshisname, but an ex can dream, can’t I?”
— Sebastian Langston, owner of Saffron on Jekyll restaurant and Sage Café on St. Simon’s Island
The Dreamer:
“He says all I have to do is go out with him to be visible enough for her. He gets her back, I find my brother, and I go to grad school. A win-win. Yeah, he’s cute and has a kind heart. And she doesn’t deserve him. Oh, did I just say that?”
— Emmeline O’Hanlon, harpist and music librarian of the Sea Islands Symphony Orchestra
The Duet:
So it begins, this ill-advised scheme to drive his commitment-phobic ex-fiancée to the altar. Sebastian thinks his plan-on-a-whim would succeed because it has to. He will turn thirty-four next September and he wants to be a father by the following summer, preferably to a passel of Talia’s future children.
The short-term business agreement would only last one summer, or so Emmeline thinks. She needs Sebastian’s funding to search for her long lost brother, and he is enlisting one of the top private investigators in the region to find him. All she has to do is smile and make Talia jealous. A piece of cake.
As they keep up the ruse, Emmeline’s ethereal harp starts to sound like siren songs that distract Sebastian from his goals. Pretty soon, he’s rowing away from his well-planned goals…
* * *
Turn the page to read chapter 1 of Step with Me.
Sebastian and Emmeline’s story is the second novel in Jan Thompson’s Seaside Chapel series. To be notified when Step with Me is published, sign up for Jan’s newsletter:
www.janthompson.com/newsletter
Seaside Chapel: JanThompson.com/seaside
STEP WITH ME: Chapter 1
Seaside Chapel Book 2
“I’m going to do it.” Emmeline O’Hanlon made up her mind then and there.
“Noooo!” Across the table, Skye put down her chicken sandwich. “You’re just enabling my brother. He’s an idiot. Don’t help him.”
Emmeline laughed. She barely knew Skye’s older brother, but from what she’d heard at church, in the Seaside Chapel Women’s Bible Study Group and at lunches with Skye herself, she doubted that Sebastian Langston was as stupid as his sister made him out to be.
If he were, the restaurateur wouldn’t have been the youngest chef to win the James Beard award and to own an award-winning restaurant.
“I have to find my brother.” Emmeline sipped more tea. It was a tad too sweet. Around her the lunch crowd was thinning. She had to get back to work soon, but she valued Skye’s input on this and agreed to hear her out.
“It’s been five years, Em. Who knows where your brother is now?”
“Exactly. I’m out of money. I have to hold down two part-time jobs that don’t give me healthcare. SISO? We only get paid when we play and you know how often harpists play. My van—you know, the one that carries my harp for me—has passed its expiration date. I start grad school this August with only half the the funds I need.”
“We all have financial difficulties.”
“It costs money to find my brother is what I’m saying. Money I don’t have. I don’t think my parents can wait for me to get out of grad school, go on concert tours, earn more money, and then look for Claude. What your brother says he’ll do for me right now, this summer, is amazing. An answer to prayer.”
“I’m not sure he has God in mind when he made you the offer,” Skye said.
“But don’t you see? No money exchanges hands. Sebastian helps me find my brother, I help him get his girlfriend back. What could possibly go wrong?”
Skye shook her head the way Skye always did: vigorously. Her hair bounced around her ears. “This is not the way to get there, Em. What else did Sebastian offer you?”
“That’s all. It’s a one-for-one deal. He helps me find Claude. I help him with his Talia problem.”
“Talia is not just a problem. She’s my brother’s doom, Em.”
“Two months. That’s all. Come first week of August, I’ll be back at UGA. Be happy for me, Skye.”
No response. Emmeline watched Skye resume eating her sandwich. As for herself, she’d finish her baby kale salad. Wished she had ordered more but this offer from Sebastian had cause her stomach to knot up a bit. It was too good to be true. Then again…
“Come on. It can’t be that bad. You’ve always had good things to say about your brother.” Emmeline stirred her iced tea.
“He’s not thinking straight at this time, Em.”
“It’ll be only for a two months until Talia gives in or I pack up and leave for Athens. That’s all. I view it like a summer job. I had many summer jobs when I was in college.”
“That’s just it.” Across the table, Skye threw up her hands. She leaned forward. Emmeline could feel the tension in her voice. “Emmeline Eleanor O’Hanlon, listen to me. A rent-a-girlfriend position—eek, did I say that?—is not a job. It rates up there with call girls and women of the night. It’ll look really, really, really, really bad on your resume.”
“I trust your brother. He’s a Christian, he goes to church at Seaside, and if he tries to hurt me, I’ll call up Pastor Gonzalez and have him excommunicated.”
“Seaside Chapel is a Christian church, not Catholic, Emmeline. It doesn’t excommunicate anyone.”
“Okay. Throw out, then.”
“I’m about to throw up here, Em.”
“You were the one who told me about your brother’s plight, Skye.”
“To ask for prayer, not for you to sell yourself. What will your future husband think?”
“Not to worry. I’m going to be single the rest of my life.” Emmeline remembered the last time she held Ivan MacMillan’s hands only the summer before. Yeah, when he had told her he was simply going out with her, nothing more.
Four months later, he had found the love of his life. Married now and on his honeymoon in Vienna, Ivan had it made with Brinley.
“Listen, girl.” Skye wa
gged a finger at her friend. “This is my brother we’re talking about. His on-again and off-again ex-fiancée is messing with him. He’s not thinking straight. He’s reacting to her irrationally. That’s why he’s in this emotional wreck. He’s very needy. I won’t let you ruin your life on account of him.”
“It’s business—“
“Aarrggh! Did you say business?”
“Calm down, Skye. Look, I’ll make a deal with you. I’ll set down rules. No touching. No hugging. No kissing. If he oversteps those boundaries, I’ll call you and you can rip him apart. Deal?”
Skye toned down as servers and customers walked by them.
Emmeline’s eyes grew wide at the clock on the wall behind the checkout counter some tables away. “Have to run. Rehearsal in half an hour but I have to put together the wedding music folder for the ensemble.”
Why, oh why did I wait until the last minute?
They paid for their lunches and parted ways outside the café. The sun was beating down on Emmeline. She didn’t burn easily; must be her mother’s side of the family. She made the short trek to her van parked across the road by Neptune Park, where kids were playing and shrieking in their cute little voices.
No children for me in the foreseeable future. She sighed.
Tourists milled around beyond the playground, taking photographs around the St. Simon’s Island water’s edge and the pier, oblivious to her own plight.
She had to jiggle the key in her van door to get it to unlock. She yanked the door hard to get it to open.
Story of my life.
She had bought the van from another student at college. It had been on its last leg then. And now—
Thank You, God, that it has lasted me five years.
Share with Me: Seaside Chapel Book 1 Page 42
