She smiled at his brogue and at the mischievous gleam in his expression.
"But if it's a fight you're wantin' "-he winked-"then you've come to the right man, my lady. Because I won't be lettin' you go without one:'
She laughed, and with a trembling hand she touched his face. "I don't want to fight you. Not anymore;' she whispered. `And I don't want to leave you, James McPherson:'
The humor in his expression faded and was replaced by something far more powerful. "Molly, I've got something I've been meaning to give you for a while now. This isn't quite the setting I imagined, but. . " He laughed, glancing at the ravine. "In a way, it seems fitting:"
Wordlessly, she waited, hoping it was what she thought it would be.
I found this"-he pulled something from his pocket-"when we were packing up your stuff. After Jo was born." He held out the ring she'd bought in Sulfur Falls all those months ago.
And her heart fell. She couldn't bring herself to look at him.
He fingered the ring, all dull metal now, no sheen. "I didn't know if you'd want to keep it. But it didn't seem right to pack it up with your stuff-not when I'd already bought this one to replace it"
He opened his other hand to reveal a small white box, and Molly wanted to slap him and kiss him at the very same time.
"I'd be honored, Miss Molly Whitcomb, if you'd take me to be your husband. And if you'd allow me to be this sweet little girl's papa:" He brushed a finger against Jo's tiny fist. Jo latched on to him and didn't let go.
Molly looked up, tears in her eyes, seeing the same in his, and words wouldn't come. She didn't deserve this man, or this second chance.
James opened the box, and every shred of remaining doubt inside Molly fled. It couldn't be ...
The ring was lovely-shiny gold with delicate etchings that gave the finish a brushed look. It was the ring she'd first chosen all those months ago, pure gold, refined by fire. But it had been too costly-and too purefor what the ring she'd bought that day would represent.
The distinct clearing of a throat drew their attention. Mr. Lewis stood watching, along with the older couple.
Mr. Lewis motioned. "I don't mean to hurry you young folks along, but I've got a stage to run:' Humor punctuated his grin. `And I'm just wondering how much longer you might be:'
James tossed him a smile. "Well, that all depends"-he turned back"on what Miss Whitcomb's answer is:"
Molly smiled up at him. God seemed determined to give her what she did not deserve, and she determined to spend the rest of her life making sure He knew she was grateful. "You already know what my answer is"
He cradled her face. "Yes, ma'am, I do. But I'd like to hear it, just the same"
"Yes;" she whispered. "For both me and Jo, for as long as God sees fit." She stood on tiptoe and kissed him, without reservation and without holding back. Just as she'd wanted to do ever since he'd told her he'd read Little Women.
A NOTE FROM TAMERA
Dear Friends,
If you've made it this far, you've invested quite a bit of time in James and Molly's journey. Thank you for choosing to travel this road with them, and with me. While I hope you've been entertained and have experienced some laughs and maybe even some tears along the way (I don't feel as if I've gotten my "money's worth" unless I experience both), my sincerest desire is that you've taken a step closer to Christ. After all, it's all about Him.
To say that teachers have made a difference in my life would be a great understatement. They have shaped my eternity. I was thrilled to watch Molly's relationships with her students grow and flourish in ways she couldn't have imagined (and that I didn't either, when first plotting this story). I think of teachers I've been blessed to know in my life-Mrs. Putnam and Miss Deborah Ackey (Idlewood Elementary School), Jimmy Jones, David Fincher, John Clovis, and Dwight Smith (Greater Atlanta Christian School), Jimmy Allen and Jim Woodroof (Harding University), and many others-and I still treasure all they taught me. And will forever. Thank you, dear friends, for investing in me.
I don't know if you've ever been in a situation when you, quite literally, couldn't wait to be "beyond this moment," regardless of whether your circumstances stemmed from your own poor choices or rather simply from living in a fallen world. But at certain points in Molly's journey, I identified with her situation far more than I wanted to, and the discomfort in those moments was palpable. Regret over things I've done in my life returned a hundredfold, and I relived that gut-wrenching sourness one feels in the pit of their stomach when wishing they could have a "do over" on certain decisions. But can't.
Some decisions, once made, have unavoidable consequences that cannot be removed, much like Molly's. However, even in those darkest of times, when we feel the overwhelming weight of our sin, God is alwaysalways-yearning to forgive. He's not simply willing to forgive, mind you, He's eager to extend pardon. So if you've wandered from Him, know that He's standing on the porch even now, watching for you, waiting for you to come home. Or if you need to come to Him for the very first time, don't delay. Run for Him with all you've got. His arms are open wide, ready to catch you. Doesn't the Cross of Jesus Christ say that?
Until next time,
Tamera Alexander
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
My thanks ...
First and always, to Jesus-who searches me and knows my heart, and is leading me in the way everlasting.
To Joe, Kelsey, and Kurt-without you ... Well, I don't even want to go there.
To Natasha Kern, my agent-your insights, not only into this industry but into writing, amaze me. I'm glad we're together.
To Karen Schurrer, Helen Motter, Charlene Patterson, Julie Klassen, Sharon Asmus, and Ann Parrish, my editors at Bethany House, and to Raela Schoenherr, an early reader-your comments and feedback as this story grew and took shape added such richness and depth, and helped me keep my sanity.
To Francesca Muccini-for sharing your love of your native tongue, and for translating the necessary phrases into Italian. Molte grazie. And any mistakes are mine.
To my readers-your notes and letters are blessings I treasure, and that you grow to love these characters as much as I do is an unexpected joy. I look forward to more journeys together.
Join me again in Fall 2009 for Within My Heart, the next book in the Timber Ridge Reflections series.
TAMERA ALEXANDER is a bestselling novelist whose deeply drawn characters, thought-provoking plots, and poignant prose resonate with readers. Having lived in Colorado for seventeen years, she and her husband now make their home in Tennessee, where they enjoy life with their two college-age children and a silky terrier named Jack.
Tamera invites you to visit her Web site at www.tameraalexander.com or write her at the following postal address:
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Tamera Alexander - [Timber Ridge Reflections 02] Page 43
