Always Tried and Proven

by Nancy Hopper

  She laughed incredulously. “Have you lost your mind?” she gasped. “This place is … impeccably decorated, with rare antiques!. I wouldn’t dare touch it. Sam, is this place really … yours?” she asked quizzically.

  “No. Not anymore. It’s ours.” He said with a chuckle. He took a glass down, got ice from the ‘fridge door, and filled it with cold water. He drank deeply, and offered it to Callie. She numbly shook her head.

  “Roland’s parents bought it in the 30’s when it was new construction. Roland inherited it from his mother when she passed on. And having no children of his own, Roland kindly left it to me. Now, it will be a home for us whenever we’ve got time to spare.”

  Callie just leaned against the island and let her breath out in a long sigh. “Wow.” She said quietly.

  “It’s all right, isn’t it?” he asked uncertainly.

  Callie dropped her head. “Sam, I’m overwhelmed. It’s marvelous. I just had absolutely no idea that you had this place. Anyplace, actually. I never thought of you being anyplace, but in the tent, somehow.”

  He shrugged. “I guess it never came up.” He said.

  “When you brought the tent to New York … you stayed in a hotel.”

  “No, I stayed here.”

  “But Sadie thought…”

  “Sadie doesn’t know everything.”

  “You rented a car…”

  “No, it’s parked in the garage below the building.”

  “You mean it’s yours, too?”

  “Ours.” He corrected again.

  “Why didn’t Sadie know?”

  “I don’t tell anyone where I live. Perhaps I’m too cautious, but I’d rather not have anyone interrupt my time away. People are always around. I come here for respite. I’ve always liked it here. Roland’s father was a top adviser to Rockefeller, he had plenty of money, even through the crash.” He caressed her cheek gently.

  “There’s a ranch as well, before I forget to tell you. In Western Wyoming. Roland lives there with a nurse, he’s very infirm. His wife, Irma, died years ago. I’ll take you there to meet him tomorrow. But for now, why don’t you relax for awhile? Take a hot bath, or something?” he suggested. “Then, we can think about something to eat.”

  “Sure. That would be wise, I suppose.” She agreed meekly.

  Sam sat in the great room, looking out at the city for some time. He wasn’t sure what to do next. Callie seemed shell-shocked and out of nerve. He really didn’t understand it at all, but he had to assume that it had a lot to do with her past experiences and her fears about marriage. She’d been so happy when he asked her, and right up until Terrill had pronounced them husband and wife.

  He prayed for a time, and then wandered into the bedroom. She hadn’t made it to the bath, she was on the bed -- and out cold. He sat beside her and watched her gentle breathing with a tender expression in his eyes. She looked so sweet, and soft, and vulnerable in her pink dress.

  He took off her shoes, and unzipped her dress. She moaned as he took off the dress and stripped her down to her slip, but she didn’t wake up. He pulled back the covers, and slipped her between them. Then he stripped down to his shorts and climbed into the other side.

  It seemed an eternity that he just lay there, looking at her. Until the sun went down, and darkness fell. Still, the moon let him see her sweet face, and he gently unpinned her hair and let it flow down over her shoulders.

  To his surprise, she snuggled into his arms and kissed his chest softly. He gently wrapped his arms around her, and stroked her hair. Before long, he too was sound asleep.

  Callie awakened, wondering what the sounds were that she was hearing. It wasn’t the usual. It was … traffic. The vague sound of traffic. She opened her eyes, and wondered what she was seeing.

  Zebra? She blinked and looked again. Still zebra. On a wall.

  She looked around her and slowly, memory began to return. The flight to New York, the cab ride to Manhattan; the wonderful suite. Sam’s. She turned and looked behind her shoulder and found him sleeping soundly in the bed beside her. All she could see was his tousled hair, his strong, bronzed back and shoulders. His slender waist protruding from a coffee-colored sheet.

  “Whoo.” She whistled softly. She lifted the sheet, and found that he was wearing jersey knit shorts. She wrinkled her nose, and looked down to find that she was wearing her slip and nylons. “Ugh.” She grimaced, and quickly rid herself of all her clothing.

  She turned to watch Sam sleep, and before she knew it, she had joined him there again.

  Sam awakened, and stretched luxuriously. It was good to be home. He always knew just where he was, the moment he awakened at home. Roland had left such a peace on the place, from all the years of prayer. He took a deep breath, and turned to look at her.

  Callie. Here. With him. Without … anything on? He opened his eyes a bit wider to find nothing hindering his view of her soft, lovely shoulders.

  He shrugged lightly, and slipped out of his shorts. When in Rome, he decided with a grin. He cuddled to Callie’s back, and found himself immediately in a vastly different frame of mind.

  “That won’t do just yet, I suppose.” He mumbled. He kissed her neck, and let his hands caress skin so soft and silky, it made him want to groan aloud.

  Callie rolled into his arms, and came awake instantly. She froze when she realized where she was and what was happening.

  “Good morning.” Sam whispered, kissing her nose.

  “Hey.” She answered, pulling the sheet taut across her chest. “Oh, Sam, I am so sorry.” She groaned, realizing that she’d gone to sleep late afternoon and not come to the surface until the next morning.

  He chuckled. “I’m a patient man, Callie. Don’t give it a thought.” He assured her, stretching his arm under her neck.

  “You must be. You’re amazing.” She admitted hesitantly. “You must think I’m some kind of idiot.” She mumbled.

  He shook his head. “No. No, sweetheart, I don’t. I think you’re wonderful. Heavenly. Sweet as the day is long. And scared to death. Maybe you should talk to me about it.” He suggested lightly.

  Callie grinned wryly. “Ever the pastor, aren’t you?” she accused. “No. I just kind of froze up, I think. I mean, all of a sudden I was married, and I began to realize how little I knew about you really, and then we were on a plane, and here, and … I just suddenly was exhausted. I thought I’d just lay down for a minute. That’s all I remember.”

  Sam smiled. “I really hate to push you, but I do think it might be a good idea if you were to just talk to me a little bit about everything, Cal. I don’t want to make any mistakes.”

  “Talk about what?” she asked woodenly.

  “Your father. Dexter. For starts.” He suggested.

  Callie withdrew subtly. “What do you want to know?”

  “What not to do to upset you.”

  “Then don’t ask me about Dex or Willy.” She snapped. “Dex is in prison because he killed Willie. That's about all there is to know.”

  Sam digested the answer with raised eyebrows.

  “I’m sorry. You didn’t deserve that.” She grumbled. A sigh followed. “My father wasn’t much of a father. He was very good looking and he knew it, it seems. He liked drinking and gambling, and women. Mom just took care of us and put food on the table. We never really knew when he’d show up, or what condition he’d be in when he did.”

  “Mom gave it some time, but it didn’t take her long to see that there was no point in keeping up appearances. Things obviously were not going to improve, so she divorced him and moved us out to where she lives now. She got me a horse, got Peter a motorcycle, and worked two jobs.”

  “When and how did he come back into your life?” he asked quietly.

  Callie shrugged, “Oh, he was in a bar I was playing one night. He looked so familiar. I kept looking at him, wondering. He tried to hit on me on a break, and then someone called him Willie. My blood like … froze.” She stumbled. “And I knew who he was.”


  “What did he say when he realized?”

  “I never told him.” She said quickly.

  Sam looked at her in shock. “He never knew?”

  Callie smiled tightly. “Nope.” She confirmed. “Then I met Dex, and he and Willy hit it off so well. I should have seen at once that they were two of a kind. Foolish girl.”

  “It’s not always so easy to see.” Sam comforted. “But how could he not know you were his own daughter?”

  “He thought my name was Kelly. I didn’t correct him. He wasn’t all that observant, or caring. But Sam, let’s don’t talk about them. It’s all over with.” She begged.

  “All right, sweetheart. All I care about is you.” He said quietly.

  “Being here with you brings back very distant memories.” Sam mused. “I used to lie awake in bed at night, and dream about a girl like you. Being here, someday, with me. Wondering if it could ever really happen, or whether I'd be forever alone and barren.”

  “Why would you think that?” she asked gently, brushing his bangs away from his beautiful eyes.

  He shrugged. “A twisted case of guilt and shame, I suppose. I couldn't imagine any girl wanting to be with me, after all I'd done. I felt completely debased, and debauched, and used up, kind of.”

  Callie smiled. “But you're not like that, at all.” she corrected him, gently.

  He sighed. “In time, I got over those feelings. But, I never really thought I'd ever find someone, or have someone like you. Not until I met you; then, everything changed, in the blink of an eye. Suddenly, because you were you, I could imagine it; imagine us, together. It was rather a miracle, wasn't it?”

  Callie was shocked. “Sam. I don't understand that all. Are you saying that you felt that way about yourself, at the time we met?”

  He was quiet. “I don't know. Not consciously, perhaps. I think that I just put a lid on the whole issue a long time ago, and ended the discussion. I threw myself into the life I'd been given, and although sometimes, I longed for a companion like you – it was something that I acknowledged from time to time – but I tried not to think about it. For the most part, I just closed my eyes to that part of myself, and took the stance that it wasn't for me.”

  He laughed self-consciously. “Did you ever shatter that illusion?”

  She smiled. “Your life probably would have been a lot simpler and more peaceful if you'd kept your eyes closed.” she advised ominously.

  “That may be. But it was hardly even a conscious choice; it was like lightning struck, when we met. Besides, I wouldn't miss out on this, for all the tea in China.”

  She kissed him, and snuggled close. “You took off your shorts.” She accused softly.

  “You took off all your clothes.” He replied.

  “I did. And do you know why?”

  “I can only hope.” Sam chuckled in reply.

  “Mmm. You are a very handsome and sexy man.” She told him, running her fingers down his chest and over his tummy.

  “Does that mean you’re over your case of … nerves?” he asked hoarsely.

  Callie laughed. “I would have to say, I believe it does.”

  She kissed Sam, and let her hands slowly slide over his low back and hips.

  The blood rushed through Sam’s veins with such force that he thought he might simply pass out. He growled, had he known it; rolled until Callie was beneath him, and kissed her as if there was no tomorrow.

  And the Lord smiled down from His heaven, and He laughed with joy.

  *****************************************************************************

  Participating in a tent ministry is a joy I will never forget. It is a wonderful thing for people to come together for a common purpose, from different walks of life and backgrounds. Focusing on what we have in common and not what we disagree upon, makes a huge difference in the atmosphere. The open air, the relaxed setting, the freedom of the outdoors makes 'the tent' a wonderful departure from the norm. But, it's not an easy life for those who host the tent. Early mornings, late nights, physical work and coordination of numerous teams and facilitation of numerous ministries, make it a tiring proposition. Still, the joy presides.

  Other Stories by Nancy Hopper:

  Against All Odds, (available at Kindle Books) B00A7MPYIY

  My Heart Won't Say Goodbye (available at Kindle Books) B00ADDA1UI

  Follow Your Heart (available at Kindle Books) B00BKA5V80