by Arlene James
CALLED TO LOVE
Arlene James
www.millsandboon.com.au
Contents
Cover
Title Page
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Copyright
Chapter One
“I can’t believe it,” Cissy whispered, her pale green eyes wide as she lowered the letter she’d been reading.
Jeb Miller, the thirty-year-old pastor of Grasslands Christian Church—and her boss—laughed. His eyes danced behind the lenses of his horn-rimmed glasses, his bright hair almost as shocking a shade of carrot-red as Cissy’s own.
“Believe it. They’ve offered you the position of director at the orphanage. I’m not sure why you’re surprised,” Jeb said. “I’ve sensed they were serious about you as a candidate for some time now.”
Cissy had been spending the majority of her summers at the orphanage since she’d first visited there on a mission trip when she’d been a freshman in college. She’d instantly known her calling was to work there. Now, at only twenty-six, she was being offered the job of director at the small orphanage and school just across the Texas border in Mexico. It was a dream come true, an answered prayer. And a problem.
“My mother is going to hit the roof.”
Sally Locke, a widow, would not meekly accept Cissy’s move to Mexico. Sally didn’t understand why her only child was not content to marry and have babies. She didn’t understand why anyone would want to move away from Grasslands, which was, admittedly, a perfectly nice little town about an hour southeast of Amarillo, Texas.
“She’ll come around,” Jeb assured Cissy. “They don’t expect you until June 1, so that gives us a month to prepare. Meanwhile, I’ll petition the church for financial help.”
The salary offered by the orphanage was a pittance, but then Cissy had known that securing extra funding would be a big part of her duties as director. She gulped, wondering if she was up to the job.
Sensing her anxiety, Jeb suggested they pray on it, and bowed his head.
Cissy gratefully let him lead her in prayer. Toward the end of the prayer, though, she heard the scuffing of boots on the floor outside the church office, alerting them to a visitor.
Looking up, Cissy saw a tall, handsome cowboy standing just outside the room, a battered hat—almost as black as his thick hair—in hand. His warm brown eyes slid right past Jeb to alight briefly on Cissy. She suddenly wished she’d confined her riotous curls in a bun. Thankfully, that dark gaze swung back to Jeb as he moved forward with an outstretched hand.
“You must be Gilbert Valenzuela, the handyman.”
“Yes, sir.” The two shook hands as the cowboy said, “Call me Gil.”
“Jeb Miller. It’s a pleasure to meet you, Gil. You’ve come highly recommended by a number of our members. To hear them tell it, there’s nothing you can’t do.”
Valenzuela ducked his head. “More like I know how to do a lot of little stuff.”
“A jack-of-all-trades,” Jeb surmised, clapping the other man on the shoulder. “That’s what we need around here.” He made the belated introduction. “This is the church secretary, Cecelia Locke.”
“Cissy,” she corrected quietly.
“Perhaps I should say this is the former church secretary,” Jeb went on. “She hasn’t turned in her formal resignation yet, but she’s just been offered a job as the director of Angeles del Orfelinato de Dios.”
“The Angels of God Orphanage,” Valenzuela said, translating.
Cissy smiled. Maybe among his other duties Gil Valenzuela would be willing to help her practice her Spanish. A little thrill of excitement shot through her at the thought, but she instantly squelched it.
The very last thing she needed now was to get involved in any way with a man, especially one this attractive.
God had just shown her where her future lay, and she would be true to her calling, no matter what.
Chapter Two
Gil hung his elbows on the top plank of the sagging corral fence. “Yes, ma’am,” he said, “I can train that filly, and I can straighten up this old fence, too, but you’ll have to be patient.”
“They keeping you busy out at the Colby Ranch?” Sally Locke asked idly, shading her hazel eyes against the afternoon sun.
Gil smiled. “Let’s just say I’ve got a lot on my plate.”
“Well, I hear you’re the best hand Belle Colby has, so we’ll work out something.”
“Thank you, ma’am,” Gil said, turning his head as a little car puttered up to the end of the drive. Sally, too, looked in that direction and lifted a hand in greeting as the driver parked the coupe next to another battered compact. Gil blinked as the church secretary got out and started toward them.
“Good timing,” Sally called to the pretty redhead. “You need to meet this fellow. He’s going to be doing some work around here.” She glanced at Gil, saying, “My daughter, Cissy.”
“We’ve met,” Cissy said, as Gil faced her, doffing his hat. He couldn’t help a burst of pleasure at seeing her again.
“Miss Cecelia,” he said. “This is a surprise.”
Glancing at her mother, Cissy returned his smile with a frown. “Yes, it is.”
She quickly stepped back, preparing to leave—he couldn’t let her. Straightening, he blurted out, “Guess you’re excited about the job in Mexico.”
He knew instantly that he’d said the wrong thing. Cissy blanched, and Sally made a strangled sound, her freckled face suffused with bright, angry color that made the gray streaks in her reddish-brown hair stand out like tendrils of steam.
“Job?” she choked out. “In Mexico!”
Sighing, Cissy calmly said, “I was going to tell you tonight.”
Gil stumbled over an apology mixed with explanation. “I—I shouldn’t have said anything. I was at the church earlier, you see, and overheard the pastor talking with your daughter.”
“And when was this?” Sally demanded.
Cissy answered for him, “Tuesday.”
“Two days ago,” Sally pointed out bitterly.
Gil began his apology anew. “I’m sorry for—”
Sally spun abruptly toward the house. “I should see to dinner.” She stopped and turned back. “Perhaps you’ll join us, Mr. Valenzuela?”
Surprised, Gil stammered, “I—I wouldn’t want to impose.”
She headed toward the house again, barking, “Take care of it, Cissy.”
“Yes, Mama.” Cissy grimaced apologetically at him. She beseeched Gil in a quiet, husky voice, “Please stay. I would consider it a personal favor.”
How could he refuse? Even if he hadn’t caused the shapely little redhead trouble by speaking out of turn, he couldn’t resist the appeal in her pale, gray-green eyes. Gil nodded his acceptance of the dinner invitation, telling himself that the quickening of his heart owed less to a pretty face than a simple social obligation.
What point could there be in pursuing a woman who was on her way out of the country, after all? Not that he was in the market for romance. He had a ranch to buy. He’d been working his way toward that goal since the day he’d set foot in Grasslands. But one little dinner wouldn’t derail that.
Would it?
Chapter Three
“I think Grasslands is a wonderful place to live,” Sally Locke said from her chair at the table in her dated kitchen. “Don’t you agree, Gil?”
While he had wolfed down two huge helpings of a cheesy skillet dinner accompanied by a simple salad, Cissy had pushed her food around on her plate.
“I do.” Gil put down his fork to explain. “The winters are so hard back in South Dakota that when I was a boy, our winter coats had to be approved by the principal every fall. My first winter here, I made up my mind I was staying.”
“But Grasslands has cold weather,” Cissy insisted. “Why, it got down to eighteen degrees one night last winter.”
Gil laughed, his dark eyes crinkling at the outer edges. “In the Dakotas, anything above zero is considered shirt-sleeve weather.”
“Oh, you’re teasing,” Cissy accused.
“Think so? Remind me to tell you about a real Dakota winter sometime.”
“Not much hope of that,” Sally muttered, swinging to her feet. “Chatting across international borders isn’t so easy.”
Gil rose when Sally did. She waved him back down into his chair.
“You keep my daughter company while I get a breath of fresh air,” she said. “Might be her last chance to talk to an eligible man. You are eligible, aren’t you, Gil?”
Cissy blushed as Gil murmured, “Suppose so.”
Tossing her wadded paper napkin onto the table, Sally strode for the back door. Gil slowly sank down onto his chair once more as the screen door slammed behind her.
“I’m sorry about that,” Cissy quietly offered. “Mama is obviously matchmaking in an attempt to keep me from going to Mexico.”
“Oh, that’s all right,” Gil assured her. “My mama didn’t want me to leave South Dakota, either.”
“But here you are,” Cissy said.
“And here I’ll stay,” he contended. “I dreamed about Texas as a boy. My grandfather used to tell me stories of his time here. Made it sound as if Texas was the next thing to Heaven. When I started working with horses and decided I might try my hand at ranching someday, he set aside a little money in his will to get me started. I like to think he knows that I finally made it south of the Red River. I bet he’d have loved Grasslands.”
“I’m sure he would have,” Cissy assured him. “What’s not to love?”
“But you’re bent on leaving,” Gil remarked, “and you’re going to a foreign country.”
“Mexico is closer to Grasslands than South Dakota is,” Cissy pointed out.
“That’s true,” he admitted with a chuckle. “Still, it’s kind of dangerous, isn’t it?”
Cissy shrugged and picked up her plate. “I’ve never felt threatened at the orphanage.” She rose and nodded toward his plate. Instead of handing it over, he got up and carried it to the sink. She followed, saying, “I’ve spent summers at the orphanage for years now. It’s fairly isolated, and no one’s ever been anything but welcoming and kind to me there.”
“That’s good,” he said slowly, putting his plate down and turning his back to the counter to face her. “Don’t you want to get married, though? I mean, if the orphanage is as isolated as you say…”
Cissy stuck the stopper in the sink, saying carefully, “I’d like to get married, but my husband would have to feel called to the mission field just as I do.”
“So you’re saying that you’re called to mission work.”
She faced him. “I’m saying that I’m called to this particular mission, and I knew it the first time I set foot in the place when I was a freshman in college. I took part in a summer mission project to build a dorm there. Up to that point, boys and girls shared a single sleeping room. After it was built, they had some privacy and were much happier. By the time I left, I felt as if I was leaving home instead of going home. That sense grew every time I went back on another temporary mission. So I tailored my course work in college to prepare for the day when I could return permanently, and when the original director retired, I applied for the position. I was compelled to do so. Do you understand what I mean?”
“Yes, I think I do,” Gil said softly. “I am a Christian. I understand what it means to be called, to have that urge, hear that quiet, still voice that speaks without words. I felt that way when I arrived in Grasslands.”
Cissy held his gaze, feeling a flutter of something in her chest.
After a moment, he smiled and softly said, “I confess that I haven’t been in church regularly for a while. Maybe it’s time for that to change.”
Cissy told herself that the delight rising within her was strictly a spiritual matter. If something she had said led Gil—or anyone—into a closer relationship with Christ, then her joy would be complete.
So why, she wondered, did she fear that her pleasure might be much more personal than spiritual?
Chapter Four
He shouldn’t have taken a seat across the aisle from Cissy and Sally Locke. Gil had known for a while that he needed to start going to church on a regular basis again, and he’d told himself that was his only reason for attending this Sunday morning service at Grasslands Community Church. But his choice of seats belied his reasoning, and he’d had a difficult time keeping his gaze off Cissy. Only during prayer had he been able to concentrate.
It shamed him to think how long it had been since he’d joined with others in speaking to God. He knew very well the benefit of corporate prayer and realized that his personal ambition had led him astray. He’d been so intent on stashing every extra dollar for the ranch he wanted that he’d forgotten to worship. Cissy’s determination to move to Mexico and run an orphanage there had made him realize what he was doing.
He glanced her way again, oddly pleased to find her looking at him. She nodded and smiled, and his heart sped up, as if he was some stupid grade-schooler with a crush. He managed what he feared was a sickly smile in response and focused his attention rather desperately on the pastor.
Jeb presented a profoundly simple message that held Gil’s interest to the very end. Only after the final song had been sung, the parting prayer had been said and the congregation stepped out into the various aisles was Gil once more confronted with Cissy Locke’s lovely countenance. She’d piled her curly orange-red hair on top of her head, leaving tendrils to waft about her face and call attention to her unusual pale green eyes.
“I’m glad to see you here today, Gil,” she told him softly.
For some reason he couldn’t make his tongue work properly. “Ah, uh, g-good sermon.”
“Yes, it was,” she agreed.
He coughed into his fist, hoisted his hat in farewell and then realized that he couldn’t charge off up the aisle in front of her. “A-after you.”
She turned and patiently trailed the chattering throng pushing sluggishly for the exit. Sally held back to speak with another woman, so Gil had no choice except to fall in behind Cissy. As they inched along, he studiously avoided touching her.
He left her just outside the building, wondering why he felt so troubled and dissatisfied all of a sudden—and why God had brought this woman into his life now. What could possibly be the point?
He needed to keep his distance from Cecelia Locke. Starting with giving the Locke job precedence. The sooner he got Cissy Locke out of his head, the better.
Chapter Five
“It’s done, Mother,” Cissy said implacably, trying not to watch Gil Valenzuela as he patiently worked the filly in the reconstructed corral. She had seen him only at a distance since Sunday, and he had either not noticed her on each of those occasions or he was ignoring her.
That was probably for the best. And yet, here she stood by the corral instead of going into the house. “I sent my formal acceptance of the job today.”
Sally Locke shook her head. “You should have children of your own,” she insisted vehemently, “not go haring off to a foreign country to take care of other people’s kids!”
“I trust that someday I will have m
y own children,” Cissy replied calmly. “I’m sure God will bring the right man to me when the time is right.”
“In Mexico?” Sally scoffed. “In the middle of nowhere? The nearest town is so tiny there are no stores. You have to have your food trucked in from Texas!”
“So? Are you saying that God is limited by space and distance?”
“You know I’m not,” Sally snapped. Shaking a hand, she added, “I just wish you’d look at what’s right in front of you.”
I am looking, Cissy thought, dragging her gaze once again away from Gil. She couldn’t seem to stop her eyes from wandering to him. He reminded her in some ways of her late father—a capable, careful man with a quick hand and ready smile.
But Gil wasn’t for her. How could he be when he so clearly wanted to stay here in Grasslands and she was destined for Mexico? Her attraction to him was nothing more than a test of her commitment to God’s calling.
Gil walked to the corral fence with a long, smooth gait. As he drew near, he said, “I think she’s ready for riding, ma’am.”
“Already?” Sally barked, obviously displeased. “It’s only been a week.”
“She’s ready.”
Sally huffed, but then she nodded. “All right. Thank you, Gil.”
“My pleasure, ma’am. She’s a sweet-natured little filly and will serve well.”
Sally slid a look at Cissy, muttering, “Pity the other females around here aren’t so promising.”
Sighing, Cissy let her mother walk away without comment.
Gil folded his forearms atop the corral fence. “Still giving you a hard time?”
Cissy grimaced. “She wants grandchildren, and she thinks that if I go to Mexico I’ll never get married and have babies.”
Gil resettled his hat. “According to my abuelo,” he began.
“Grandfather,” Cissy said.
Gil nodded, going on, “When he and my abuela left Colombia, my great-grandma wept buckets because she feared she’d never see her grandchildren in the flesh.”
