by Lynn Bulock
He turned to share that feeling with Miranda but she was gone, beside her mother and talking about getting to the hospital. “You’re here with us, Mama, and that’s all that matters. We’ll work it all out no matter what it takes.” They didn’t notice when Greg left the cubicle.
Was this the last time she would see Gregory? Miranda looked up to where the handsome pastor stood in the pulpit delivering the eulogy at her grandfather’s funeral.
Unity was filled with people. After six years of his illness, Miranda was amazed that this many people would mourn the passing of Howard Blanchard. At least the hordes of tabloid reporters had come and gone now, perhaps for the last time. When the family had presented a solid front after the fire that nearly destroyed their home, the media had focused on Peg Henderson instead. In her life and history they’d found plenty of fodder for numerous scandalous stories.
How had Peg ever hidden her past so thoroughly when she’d targeted Howard as her next victim? Miranda couldn’t imagine living an entire life with as much lying, deceit and scheming as Peg had in forty-five years. Her burial had been attended only by a few reporters who noted that the Blanchard family made sure she wasn’t buried in an unmarked grave. Now, several days later, those same reporters sat in some of the back rows of Howard’s memorial.
The front row of the church filled Miranda with a sense of awe. Only a week after the fire her parents sat together clasping hands. Trudy had a complex plan of therapy to follow that took her back to the hospital on a daily basis. And Ronald in his dark suit didn’t show the trauma of late. He was only here for the service, with six women prepared to escort him back to his room at Stoneley Memorial if he showed the least sign of flagging. In fact there were probably more like eight women, if his assistant Barbara Sanchez and his sister were added to the mix. Both had clucked over him almost as much as Trudy and his daughters.
Life might have been perfect except for one thing: the last time she’d had a moment alone with Gregory was when they walked to the intensive care unit after her grandfather’s death. And the lack of communication seemed to suit him just fine. It was as if he’d come to a decision that the two of them were, after all, just friends. The sadness Miranda felt over that was deeper than the loss of her grandfather. At least she had the comfort that Howard was done with his pain and confusion, and she could picture him reunited with Grandmother Ethel.
Gregory motioned Ronald up to the pulpit to speak. Miranda and her sisters had argued against it, but their father insisted. His voice was still raspy and low from the smoke damage, and he had to lean closer to the microphone than he normally would. She had never noticed how much silver streaked his temples these days, or perhaps the past two weeks had painted more there.
“My father, Howard Blanchard, was a proud and self-reliant man. Before illness dimmed his senses, he was known as one of the sharpest businessmen in New England. He groomed me to follow in his footsteps and, God help me, for many years I did just that. To quote Charles Dickens, we both should have realized that ‘mankind should have been our business,’ not striving to make a bigger company out of Blanchard Fabrics.
“To his credit, I will say that my father loved his granddaughters fiercely. They were his joy even after Alzheimer’s disease made it difficult for him to recognize them on occasion. When I was a child he showed me and my sister the same kind of love. It was only after we lost my mother that he became quite as intense about his work. When my mother died it was as if the light of his life went with her. I can only hope now that he has found God’s peace.”
Ronald stood silently and collected himself for a moment, and took a swallow of the water that Greg had placed there for him. He seemed to sway slightly, and Miranda almost got out of her seat. She noticed that her mother, Bianca and Winnie all seemed to mirror her action. They all visibly relaxed when he straightened and went on.
“I was not able to be at my father’s bedside for his passing, but Pastor Greg has told me that the family members who were there recited the Twenty-third Psalm as he died. I know that hearing that passage was a comfort to him in his last years of life and I regret that I didn’t think to read it to him far more often than I did. As a tribute to him and as a testimony to the Lord I know he believed in, I’d like to ask you to recite it with me now.”
The crowd had joined him by the time Ronald got to “I shall not want,” and Miranda felt lifted up by hearing the words of comfort on so many lips.
When her father went back to his seat, Gregory spoke about Howard’s last days and the unfortunate nature of his death. He didn’t go into detail but merely noted that the family had done everything in their power to make sure he was comfortable and in familiar surroundings as long as possible. “It’s a shame that intent was taken away from them by someone they trusted. The doctors have tried to assure the family that Howard was unaware of the trauma to the home he cared for so deeply. They tell us he slipped away peacefully to another mansion, one that was prepared for him long ago.”
At the end of the service Gregory announced to those present that after a short graveside service everyone was welcome to join the family back at Unity’s fellowship hall. In any other circumstance Miranda knew that everyone would have gone back to the house, but there was no house to go back to. For now they were taking up half-a-dozen rooms at the inn while Tate Connolly, Brandon and Leo all scrambled to set up temporary living quarters in properties they owned near town.
The next few hours blurred together. Miranda never lost sight of Gregory but at the same time never made eye contact, either. She went back and forth to the cemetery in the same limousine as Delia, Bianca and Leo, none of them saying much. Back at the church she made tepid conversation with people she barely knew who expressed their sympathy for her loss when she really felt like asking them how they could possibly understand what she had lost.
There was a knot in her throat and she had to get out of this building. Picking up her cup of tea, Miranda went outside to the gardens surrounding the church. They’d anticipated so many people coming to her grandfather’s services that someone had erected several green-and-white striped pavilions. It was only after she sat down at a table under one that it reminded her of the wedding reception where she’d first met Greg. It was less than a month ago, but felt like a lifetime.
A month ago she would have collapsed in a panic attack in a situation like this, but that was all in the past. Instead Miranda just buried her face in her hands and gave in to the tears that threatened to swamp her.
“I can’t do this anymore.” The deep voice sounded in her ear just before Gregory pulled her up out of her chair, wrapping his arms around her. “I know half of Stoneley is watching and I know you don’t love me but I can’t watch you cry.”
She pulled the crisp linen handkerchief out of the breast pocket of his suit, unwilling to move otherwise for fear he’d let go of her. “Of course I love you, Gregory. What could make you think otherwise?”
“You didn’t need me anymore after you found your mother, and I didn’t want to force myself on you. You’ve lost so much, Miranda, and through it all I watched you grow in faith and confidence. When you told your mother that day at the hospital that her well-being was all that mattered I knew it was time to let you go.”
“Gregory, the only loss I’ve had in the last ten days that really mattered was thinking I’d lost your love. After you told me about your family down in the cave, you seemed to shut down. Then Peg shot you and she could have killed you all on my account.” Her voice shook. “How could I possibly ask you to be with me after that? I’m the imperfect product of an extremely imperfect family and I may never get any better than I am right now.”
He tilted her head up to face him and just the feel of his fingertips under her chin made a thrill go through her.
“Would it help to know I don’t care? That I think you’re the most courageous person I’ve ever met, and I’d like to see how that courage ages for at least the next fifty or sixty ye
ars?” Greg said.
“Sixty years?” Miranda wanted to giggle. “That would make us both over ninety, Gregory.”
“Hey, you’re the one who keeps reminding me that for God, nothing is impossible. I told you that once, Miranda, and you’ve brought it back into my life so that I believe it in a whole new way.”
Miranda could see the promise of his love through her tears. “So do I. It won’t ever get old, will it, this knowing that for God anything is possible? Even working something out for people like the two of us?”
“Especially for working life out for people like us, love. And not just people like us, but for us particularly. It’s His promise to us.”
Smiling up at Greg, Miranda felt no surprise at all when he sealed his words with a kiss.
“Good,” she told him when he let her breathe again. “I want to see what impossibility He gets us through first.”
EPILOGUE
Fourteen months later
“Winnie, you throw the best parties. You should charge for these services.” Greg dropped a kiss on the top of her head as she sat at the table set up in the rose garden.
Miranda loved watching her husband interact with her family. They got together much less frequently these days, but this weekend held so many events she’d seen her parents and sisters nonstop.
“Nonsense, Greg. It wouldn’t be any fun if I did it for any reason but sheer pleasure. And believe me, this anniversary party is sheer pleasure.” Winnie beamed, reaching next to her for Tate’s hand and giving it a squeeze. He smiled back and Miranda thought once again how wonderful it had been to watch her aunt and the man she now called Uncle Tate grow into the loving married couple she saw now.
Even more amazing was the couple on the other side of the table. Ronald and Trudy Blanchard still had their moments, but the relationship God had built from the ashes of their former lives was a true miracle.
“What about tomorrow’s dedication? Will that be pure pleasure, too?” Miranda sat down in the empty chair on the other side of Winnie, where she could see her aunt and still keep her eye on Greg’s reaction.
“It’s pleasant in an entirely different way,” Winnie said, still smiling. “This place needed a new life and I’m so happy to be a part of making it come about.”
“I’m just glad to see it stop taking up your time,” Tate harrumphed. “How am I supposed to teach you the finer points of golf when you’re always party planning?”
Winnie shook her head. “You know I don’t spend any more hours on my volunteer work than you do ‘consulting’ for the company.”
“All right, no sniping. You’ll start sounding like us,” Ronald said, wagging a finger at his sister.
“Ron, honestly. The girls will think you mean that,” Trudy chided gently.
“They’ll think nothing of the kind,” Ronald said jovially. This openness was a side of her father Miranda never got tired of. “They are all too busy sighing over their own husbands and thinking dreamily of their first anniversaries to come, like ours and the Connellys’, to worry about what I’m saying.”
“Hey, I heard that!” Delia, who cruised by the table with an icy fruit drink in hand that almost matched her flowing Hawaiian sundress, put her free hand on her father’s shoulder. “And I’ll have you know I’m not thinking about anniversaries at all. I’m trying to figure out how I sweet-talk you into lending me Mom alone for about a month to help set up the nursery and look after me and this new grandbaby when it’s time.” She sighed dreamily. “Shaun has already put together the most beautiful bassinet, and now I want to decorate the room around it.”
“You might have to put up with both of us. I don’t know if I can let her out of my sight that long,” Ronald said, his eyes only on Trudy.
“That would mean you’d have to let somebody else run Seasons while you’re gone. Do you think you could stand that?” Trudy was forever testing his devotion to the reformed fabric company that now bore part of its original name again.
“For you, my dear, I’d walk away from it permanently. You know that,” Ronald told her.
Hearing that proclamation made Miranda’s heart swell in amazement at what God had worked in her father.
“Hawaii? Did I hear somebody’s going to Hawaii?” Kaitlyn Campbell raced up to the table, all seven-year-old high spirits. “Mom and Dad said next time we would all go, but we’d have to wait until after the baby’s born.” Portia and Mick, gathered with a few others from Unity, seemed to know their daughter was talking about them. From across the garden Portia waved, her other arm around her husband’s waist.
Delia leaned down to embrace her niece. “You can come whenever your parents say it’s all right, kiddo. Maybe they’d let me borrow you for Christmas break and we could start putting you on a boogie board.”
Miranda thought about telling Delia that she might not feel up to that only a few weeks after giving birth, but she kept silent. Her sisters were all grown women, happily married with lives of their own. Besides, they had a mother to point out such things. Her job as the oldest sister was just to watch it all happen and enjoy it now.
“You’ve got to be careful what you say around here,” Juliet broke in. “Next thing you know, the word’s going to go around that Delia and Shaun are having us all come for a Christmas party. Do you think you’d be ready for a baby dedication by then, too? We could get there from Paris, couldn’t we, Brandon?”
“Probably, if the design house lets you off and I could figure out some way to let somebody else run the European branch of Seasons, International, for a week or so,” her handsome husband said. “But that would mean celebrating our first anniversary in Hawaii with the family. Are you up for that?”
“Always,” Juliet said with a grin. “If this keeps up, we’re going to need to find some kind of bed-and-breakfast inn on Oahu to accommodate everybody.”
“And who’s paying for this? New York City police officers don’t make the kind of bucks corporate lawyers and business tycoons do,” Drew said. Rissa’s husband looked stern for a moment and Brandon began to apologize. Then Drew couldn’t hold his expression any longer and laughed. “Don’t worry about it, man. Rissa’s play will open off-Broadway by then and I think we can manage. It’s just fun to annoy you.”
“Who’s annoying who over here?” Bianca joined the group. “Somebody who isn’t being annoying can help me find Leo. I think he’s slipped off somewhere to make a few business calls on his cell phone and I want help reminding my husband that we agreed this was a ‘family only’ weekend.”
“Surely you can find some creative way to do it yourself,” Trudy suggested, bringing a slight blush to her daughter’s cheeks.
“Back to the dedication tomorrow,” Winnie said, her attitude more businesslike. “How much time should we allow for your talk, Greg?”
Miranda could see her husband pale for a moment, and then straighten up. “Not long. Only about ten minutes at the most. I figured that you and Ronald would be doing most of the talking. After all, it’s your parents that this place will honor.”
Miranda looked across the lawn to where the newly finished Howard and Ethel Blanchard Memorial Clinic stood ready to open its doors. The sprawling brick building was a far cry from the mansion her family had left after the fire. No one wanted to live there anymore after Peg’s destruction of the place.
“It has our name on it, son, but you better get used to talking about it. The director of New England’s largest Christian counseling center will need to have a voice,” Ronald told Greg.
“I suppose you’re right, sir. I’m still getting used to that, especially since I only consider myself the acting director until I finish school. That’s going to take years.”
“You’ve got such a gift for counseling, Gregory,” Trudy put in. “I can’t imagine finishing a doctorate in psychology will be overwhelming, especially at such a fine Christian school.”
Greg shrugged. “I’ll need the family prayer chain surrounding me for a while.
I know that God has His hand on this undertaking, but it still overwhelms me at times.”
“This family can always surround us with prayer,” Miranda said, getting up and putting an arm around her husband. “They’re very, very good at it now that they’ve come back together with God as the head of the clan.”
“Amen,” Gregory told her, sealing the statement with a kiss. There in the garden, life continued with a celebration around them and Miranda knew, no matter what happened next, that with God’s love and her family’s help, life would unfold as He intended.
Dear Reader,
I hope you’ve enjoyed THE SECRETS OF STONELEY series of books that we’ve brought to you over the past six months. What I enjoy the most about a set of books like this is the sisterhood that builds between the authors as they write the books. Like Miranda and her sisters, we share joys and sorrows with each other, serve as prayer partners during the challenges of writing and just generally support each other. I hope the ups and downs of the Blanchard sisters will motivate you to call or e-mail or visit a sister—or a sister in Christ—and share the Good News with her.
Blessings,
QUESTIONS FOR DISCUSSION
The theme verse for this book reminds us that nothing is impossible for God. What seemingly impossible things has God done in your life, or the life of someone you know?
The Blanchard family kept secrets from each other for generations, leading to a fractured family relationship for everyone. Do you think it’s ever all right to keep these kinds of secrets within a family? Why or why not?
How did the family handle Ronald’s arrest? What would you have done in their place?
Did the Blanchard family end up the way you thought they would? What would you change if you were writing their story?
