by Lori Wick
HARVEST HOUSE PUBLISHERS
EUGENE, OREGON
Verses marked NASB are taken from the New American Standard Bible, © 1960, 1962, 1963, 1968, 1971, 1972, 1973, 1975, 1977 by The Lockman Foundation. Used by permission. (www.Lockman.org)
Cover by Harvest House Publishers
Cover photo © Valentyn Volkov / Shutterstock
LORI WICK SHORT STORIES, VOL. 3
Selected from Beyond the Picket Fence
Copyright © 1998 Lori Wick
Published by Harvest House Publishers
Eugene, Oregon 97402
www.harvesthousepublishers.com
ISBN 978-0-7369-6842-3 (eBook)
All rights reserved. No part of this electronic publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means—electronic, mechanical, digital, photocopy, recording, or any other—without the prior written permission of the publisher. The authorized purchaser has been granted a nontransferable, nonexclusive, and noncommercial right to access and view this electronic publication, and purchaser agrees to do so only in accordance with the terms of use under which it was purchased or transmitted. Participation in or encouragement of piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of author’s and publisher’s rights is strictly prohibited.
Contents
A Note to Readers
An Intense Man
The Camping Trip
free sample: Every Storm
free sample: Sit, Stay, Love
More eBooks in the Lori Wick Short Stories Collection
Other Books by Lori Wick
About the Author
About the Publisher
A Note to Readers
Dear Reader,
Lori Wick’s novels of faith and romance have touched generations of readers, pointing us all to the great, redemptive power of God’s love. We’re now very excited to present to you Lori Wick’s short stories in ebook form for the first time ever!
The Lori Wick Short Stories collection is designed especially for ebook lovers. Each volume contains one or two Lori Wick short stories (previously available only in the print book Beyond the Picket Fence) along with bonus content: an excerpt from one of Lori’s beloved novels and notes from Lori with behind-the-scenes insight into her writing.
Here at Harvest House we have been honored to partner with Lori in sharing God’s love through the power of story. It is a privilege for us to share this collection with you, and we know you’ll enjoy these happy endings!
Blessings from our house to yours,
Harvest House Publishers
An Intense Man
But one who looks intently at the perfect law, the law of liberty, and abides by it, not having become a forgetful hearer but an effectual doer, this man shall be blessed in what he does.
James 1:25
Kelly Donovan pushed the glass office door open and then rubbed her sweating palms together as she tried to calm the frantic beating of her heart. She was convinced at the moment that being a temporary secretary was the worst job in the world—you never knew what you were going to find. She had worked for men and women who were absolute lambs and for others who had given her nightmares long after she’d moved on.
Today and for the next eight weeks she would be working for a Mr. Nicholas Hamilton. He was a successful, high-powered criminal lawyer from a large private firm situated in downtown San Francisco, and he had actually contacted the Amos Secretarial Agency for a fill-in secretary himself. This was very unusual, and Mrs. Kroft, the manager of the agency, had looked at Kelly with a steely glint.
“I don’t have to tell you how out-of-the-ordinary this is, Miss Donovan. You are my best secretary, and I cannot stress to you strongly enough that you must not let us down.”
Kelly’s “Yes, Mrs. Kroft” had been meek but not feigned. She was a very sweet, even-tempered young woman, ready to please, and not given to allowing her life to be ruled by her emotions. This morning, however, she was nervous. Her last job had been almost a month long, but it had felt like a year. The man for whom she had worked had been impossible to please, and as hard as Kelly now worked at remaining calm, her palms still grew damp.
“Who are you?”
A deep voice startled Kelly, and she jumped slightly. She hadn’t even seen the other person.
“I’m Kelly Donovan. The Amos Agency sent me.”
She was stared at by the owner of the voice as they stood together in the office/waiting room. He was at least 6’3”, with very dark hair and startling blue eyes. His chin was determined, stubborn even, and his black brows met in a single line over a long, fine nose. There was a sprinkling of gray at his temples.
“What do you want?” he continued in that same deep tone.
Kelly’s hand literally dripped. “I was told you needed someone to do secretarial work; I must have the wrong office.”
The man turned away from her then and stared at the empty desk as though just noticing it. Kelly was on the verge of leaving when he spoke, almost to himself.
“She’s having a baby.”
“I beg your pardon?” Kelly responded, desperately trying to keep up.
“I need a letter,” he told her. “Is that what you’re here for?”
“Yes, sir.”
With that he turned and went into his inner office. Kelly nearly tore her jacket off before frantically scrambling in the desk for a steno pad. In her two years of experience, she found that dictating letters was swiftly dying out, but if Mr. Hamilton wanted to dictate a letter, it was her job to oblige him. It felt like many minutes had passed before she found a pad and pen, but her new employer made no comment and began almost before she could take a seat. The phone rang once during his oration, but since he showed no signs of slowing, Kelly was forced to keep on.
His terse “That will be all” ended the session as abruptly as it had begun, and Kelly retired to the outer desk to try to find her way around the strange computer and file system. She heard nothing from the inner office for the better part of two hours, and when her boss did appear, he looked surprised to see her.
“Did you need something, Mr. Hamilton?”
The tall man stared at her for a moment. “What was your name again?”
“Kelly—Kelly Donovan.”
“Yes, right. Well, I need these notes typed before noon.”
“Yes, sir.”
He left the papers without further word, and Kelly went to work. The phone rang a few times, but no one wanted to speak directly to Mr. Hamilton, so Kelly took messages. At 11:45 she knocked on the heavy oak door and was given permission to enter. She laid the letter from that morning and all the papers on his desk, but he never raised his head.
Kelly had just let herself back into the waiting area when a woman came in. She was puffing like a steam engine and looked as though she was ready to deliver any moment; indeed, it looked like she might be carrying triplets.
“Oh, thank heaven you’re still here!” she gasped. “I was told only an hour ago that the woman who was to be here to start you couldn’t make it. I’m so glad you stayed.”
Kelly only stared, and the woman apologized.
“I’m sorry. I’m Brandy Clemens, Mr. Hamilton’s secretary.”
“Oh,” Kelly replied sympathetically. “I’m sorry you had to come in. I think I’m doing pretty well.”
“I know you are,” Brandy exclaimed, “or you would have run by now.”
“I don’t know what you mean,” Kelly admitted, and Brandy came to a complete halt.
“I can see that,” she began slowly, “which can only mean he’s having a good day.”
Kelly didn’t know how to answer this, but Br
andy only smiled at her.
“Okay,” she began, and in the next 30 minutes she gave Kelly a rundown on the operations. Kelly tried to absorb everything and then had a few questions. Her heart silently praised God that she had done things right so far, but as Brandy left, she gave Kelly a word of caution.
“Just remember that nothing is personal, Kelly.”
“Okay,” Kelly said, but her voice told the other woman that she didn’t really understand.
Brandy tried again. “He’s a very intense man to work for, and if he blows up at you, it’s nothing personal. He just has a job to get done and can’t see anything else.”
Kelly nodded. This was something she could understand, since many of her employers had been the same way. Kelly thanked Brandy, who seemed relieved to be leaving, and returned to her work, but it was several days before Brandy’s words were made more than clear to Kelly. Calmly brushing her windblown hair from her face, she walked into the office and was stopped short by her employer’s voice.
“Where have you been?” He was coldly furious.
Kelly took a swift glance at her watch; she was ten minutes early.
“Where is the Morgan file?” he bit out. “What have you done with it?”
To Kelly’s knowledge she had never seen the file, but she moved swiftly forward.
“I’ll check for you.”
The desk and files were a mess, and Kelly saw that he’d been rifling through them. She looked swiftly, but having Mr. Hamilton standing there glaring at her made it rather strained, and he was right: The file was nowhere to be found.
“Could it be on your desk, Mr. Hamilton?” Kelly finally ventured.
The look she received was frightening, and his voice was angrier than ever.
“Fine! If it will satisfy your curiosity, go ahead and look.” His hand swept toward the door, but it was not a nice gesture.
Kelly had no idea how to respond to his sarcasm, but she entered his office on shaking legs. In some ways she hoped the file wouldn’t be there, as it was sure to put him in a worse humor. She looked anyway and produced the file in less than a minute.
“Is this the one, Mr. Hamilton?”
“Yes, Miss Donally.” His voice was still terse. “I’ll be in court for the remainder of the week.”
If Kelly had been able to see herself in the mirror at that moment, she would have seen a shaken redhead whose green eyes and freckles stood out starkly on her pale face. Her heart felt slightly crushed and beaten. It took a few minutes to remember Brandy’s advice. With the thought, Kelly’s chin rose ever so slightly.
“My name’s not Donally,” she spoke softly to the empty room. “It’s Donovan. Kelly Donovan.”
The next eight weeks were a roller coaster ride. Some days flew by and others dragged. Some days Mr. Hamilton was absentminded and kind, and others he was intense, rude, and overbearing.
Kelly’s good friend, Jill, was a constant help during those weeks. She was never too busy to listen, and she and her new husband, Russell, had Kelly over to dinner several times.
“He was a terror today,” Kelly told them one night, her voice a bit sad. “He finally knows my name, but I couldn’t do anything right.”
“I’ve been praying that you’ll have an opportunity to witness to him, Kelly,” Russell told her. “But I think maybe I should pray that you’ll just survive.”
Kelly chuckled. “It does feel that way at times. The money has been good—I’ve put quite a bit away for lean times—but I’m so glad that I’ll be done next week.” Kelly looked at Jill, her face guilty. “I sound terribly ungrateful, don’t I?”
Jill squeezed her hand. “I think the Lord understands. It hasn’t been easy for you.”
“Does the agency have something lined up for you next week?” Russell asked.
“Yes,” Kelly told them with a pleased smile. “That candy company on Parker Street needs a temp. I’m scheduled there for three weeks.”
“That will be a nice break for you,” Russell said.
“I hope so,” Kelly returned, her smile still in place. “I hope the biggest problem will be staying out of the chocolate.”
“It’s a tough job,” Russell winked at her, “but someone’s got to do it.”
“Now, on Monday,” Mr. Hamilton began firmly but not unkindly, “I’ll be in court with the—”
“Brandy will be back on Monday,” Kelly gently cut in.
The intense lawyer looked at her as though he’d just noticed she was there and then said, “I need you in court, Kelly.”
The redhead nodded. “Brandy is going to call me this weekend so I can explain everything to her.”
Again the stare.
“You’ll win this case,” Kelly told him simply and was pleased to see him look surprised. “Especially if Brandy is back. I’ll type these notes for you now.” With that she exited and felt very thankful that her last day was going to be pleasant. And indeed, it almost was, but with only an hour of work left, a call came in from his key witness that set her employer on a rampage.
Barked at and berated for the remainder of the day, Kelly left for home feeling like a limp rag. She didn’t cry—she was too tired to make the effort—but with a weary heart she thanked God she would never have to see Nicholas Hamilton again.
Eight Months Later
“Okay,” Kelly instructed the small charges from her Sunday school class, “we’re going out on the lawn today to look for things God has made. I don’t want you to sit on the grass in your good clothes or walk in the flower beds. Does everyone understand?”
Eight four-year-olds nodded their heads as their small eyes watched her with love. Kelly smiled at them and pushed the door open. A man was coming in, one who held the door wide, but Kelly thanked him without looking up. She wouldn’t have raised her head at all if she hadn’t heard, “You’re welcome, Kelly.”
Her green eyes shot up and found Mr. Hamilton watching her. He looked much the same as he had eight months ago—tall, handsome, and impeccably dressed—but today there was a difference.
“Hello,” Kelly murmured faintly, receiving a small smile in return.
“Miss Donovan, Crissy’s in the flowers.”
Kelly had no choice but to move away and take care of her students, but it took a few moments for her to remember why they’d come outside at all. The remainder of the class time passed in a type of haze, and Kelly’s former boss was still heavy on her mind when the church service started. When the singing was over and the sermon actually began, Kelly forced her mind to the words at hand. In fact, she had so successfully put Mr. Hamilton from her mind that her mouth actually swung open when at two o’clock that afternoon she answered the knock at her front door and found him standing there.
“Mr. Hamilton,” she said inanely.
“Hello, Kelly. I knocked on two wrong doors before I found you.”
“Oh,” she said rather stupidly and then recalled her manners. “Would you like to come in?”
He entered without comment, and Kelly invited him to sit down. He chose her most uncomfortable chair but didn’t seem to notice. Kelly sat across from him, her heart pounding with anticipation.
“I didn’t know you went to that church,” Nicholas began.
Kelly smiled. “I didn’t know you did either.”
“This is only my second week. I came to Christ ten days ago.”
Kelly bit her lip and pressed the fingernails of one hand into her palm to keep from crying. His face was serene yet excited. Kelly felt a tremendous rush of emotions.
“Tell me how it happened,” she finally said and thought it was much like uncorking a bottle.
“I was miserable,” he admitted. “I couldn’t understand why I was restless and angry. I had everything I needed, but I was still impossible to please. My brother told me I needed help. I thought he was talking about a shrink, but then he took me to see Roger Foy.”
“Pastor Foy?” Kelly asked. “Pastor North’s assistant?”
“Yes. I expected him to tell me how much money I needed to give to the church in order to find happiness, but he didn’t say that. He said you have to be born again. I laughed in his face. I told him I’d already been born once, but then he opened his Bible and showed me where Jesus had said that to Nicodemus.
“I was flabbergasted by the story he read me as well as the words. I’d never understood the Bible before, but this was in plain English and not at all cryptic. I mean, Jesus himself said that we can’t see heaven unless we first accept God’s gift of life. I didn’t know that. It’s funny, but I’ve always believed that Jesus was God—I just didn’t know He’d said all these things.
“And I have to tell you the craziest part: I really didn’t think it would work. My prayer was sincere, but I didn’t think it could really be that easy. I kept waiting for Roger to tell me I could write out my check now. Instead, he offered to meet with me every week for discipleship, and he even gave me his home phone number and said I could call at any time of the day or night.”
Kelly smiled. “He’s like that—always available.”
“Have you known, Kelly?” Nick’s face was very serious. “Have you known about Christ for a long time?”
“Since I was 13.”
“So you’ve read the Bible a lot.”
Kelly nodded.
“Can you tell me what Pastor North was talking about when he mentioned the Davidic Covenant?”
And with that they were off. Kelly brought out her Bible, and they talked and discussed the Scriptures for hours. Mr. Hamilton was a brilliant man, and there were times when Kelly felt like she was out of her league, but anything she couldn’t tell him he simply wrote down in a small notebook to ask Roger later. Kelly was utterly amazed to look at her watch and find that it was after five o’clock.
“Oh, look at the time!” she exclaimed. “Would you like something to eat, Mr. Hamilton?”
“No, thank you, I’m not hungry. I read a verse yesterday …” and he was off again.
Kelly didn’t know how to handle this. The evening service started in 45 minutes, and she really would have liked a sandwich but told herself she could wait. However, she did not want to miss the service. When her watch read 5:30, Kelly plunged in.
