by JoAnn Durgin
He nodded and darted a glance her way. “Don’t tell the man, but he’s like the brother I never had.” Not only had he reconnected with his wife in Montana, but he’d made lasting, lifelong friends with all the TeamWork men, and especially Sam. Marc’s eyes filled with unexpected tears. He was turning into a sap, maybe making up for all those tears he never shed in years past. Maybe being a sap every now and then wasn’t such a bad thing. Raising Natalie’s hand to his lips, he planted a gentle kiss and stole another glance. It was difficult to keep his eyes focused on the road. If anything happened to prevent getting to the cabin this time, he might implode.
“Do you think you’ll be able to find the fork in the road?” He detected amusement in her tone.
“Natalie,” he said, blowing out a deep sigh, “tonight, I’ll be able to find it with my eyes closed.”
“Just a tip: keep the eyes wide open.” They laughed together, but his foot pressed that much harder on the accelerator, knowing it wasn’t much further, praying under his breath that pesky but dutiful sheriff was on an extended coffee break.
Chapter 46
Dropping their bags on the doorstep of the cabin, Marc pulled out the brass key. He cocked one brow and gave Natalie a knowing grin as he turned the lock. Opening the door wide, he grabbed their bags and set them inside the door before sweeping her off her feet and into his arms. She felt so light, and he laughed at her look of pleased surprise as he carried her over the threshold.
“You didn’t do that the first time.” She gave him a coy grin. “My Prince.”
His eyes widened. “Well, hello again, Beautiful Swan. Welcome back.” He dropped a light kiss on her nose, thrilled she remembered their pet names, initiated on their honeymoon. “I’m going to be doing a lot of things in the future I never did before.” Lowering her, he cupped her face and kissed that ripe mouth.
“That sounds very promising.” Her eyelids fluttered as she looked up at him, as though in a trance. “Now, close that door, so we can really get this honeymoon started once and for all.”
Doing as she asked, he locked the door to block out the rest of the world and insulate them in their little paradise. Bringing her to him, he focused on drinking in her loveliness. “I can’t believe we finally made it here.” As if their eyes were drawn to it, they both looked over at the bed at the same time. “Looks like the Lewis love elves have paid a visit,” he said as they shared a grin. A path of yellow rose petals made its way from the front door to the bed and trailed across the comforter. A bottle sat chilling in a bucket on the nightstand next to a CD player.
“When did they do this?” Marc asked, surveying the cozy cabin. “We’ve had the key since yesterday.” Walking over to the bucket, he pulled out the bottle. Sparkling grape juice.
She shrugged. “They think of everything. Knowing Sam, he probably had a second key made on one of his trips to the general mercantile. But let’s not talk about that. It’s time to concentrate on us. Be quiet and kiss me.” Wrapping her arms around his neck, Natalie pulled his head down, raising her lips to meet his.
“You sure are demanding,” Marc said, in-between kisses. Holding onto each other, they stumbled a bit as their kisses intensified, barely making it to the bed before collapsing on it.
“Wait a minute,” Natalie said, gasping for air, “shouldn’t we take this slower? We’re acting like a couple of hormonal teenagers.” He kissed her neck, and her laugh was throaty, sexy. “I don’t care.”
The way her eyes swept over his face—with pride and admiration—made him feel ten feet tall. “Hold that thought.” Sitting up, he pulled off his boots and assisted her in doing the same. “Thank you for coming back to me, Natalie. I hate that we had to go through all this a second time, but as weird as it might sound, it’s even better in so many ways. I promise you and the Lord I’m going to spend the rest of my life making you happy.”
“Oh, you do, Marc, and you’ve waited so long.” She traced her finger along his jaw with a look of longing. “In case I haven’t told you lately, I love you.” Natalie wrapped her arms around him again, pulling him closer.
“I’ll never tire of hearing you say that, but enough talking for now.” Marc began to unwrap the wool scarf from around her neck, his eyes never leaving her face. Removing all their layers of clothing would take some time, but he’d enjoy every second. Tonight, and in the next couple of days, he was going to help Natalie remember all the ways he loved her. She was no longer hesitant, shy or scared, and she made it clear she was ready to be his wife again. Thank you, Lord.
With pure joy, they began the slow, loving process of rediscovering one another as they became one again. As they finally rested much later in the night, Marc smiled. Such deep-seated contentment he’d never felt before. Surely this was a glimpse of Heaven. The rest of the world could disappear. Natalie snuggled closer and traced light circles on his chest. They fell into a deep sleep, his head leaning against hers.
Waking a long while later, wrapped only in their love and a lightweight blanket, Marc pushed the blanket aside. Love swelled his heart. Feeling blessed beyond words, he leaned over and kissed her stomach, running his hand over the blossoming curve. How he loved it. “Hello, baby girl.” The happy tears he shed wouldn’t be the only ones he’d cry for their daughter in the years to come. But he was getting ahead of himself. His head spun at the thought of it all. Now was the time to focus on their alone time together. In a few, short months, their lives would never be the same.
“Marc, are you actually kissing my stomach?” Natalie gave him the most loving look he’d ever seen, and released the most contented sigh he’d ever heard.
Her fingers tousled his hair, and he gave her a lopsided, goofy smile. “I was just saying hello to our daughter. And wondering if your nickname should be Sleeping Beauty.”
“I’ll stick with the other one, thanks. You know,” she said, “if this child turns out to be a boy, he might have some serious identity issues.” She stretched like a lazy cat and gave him a satisfied smile, obviously relishing the look in his eyes as he skimmed the length of her.
“If it’s a boy, he’ll be as manly as his dad. Trust me.”
Natalie welcomed him again with open arms. He was home in every possible way, and it was pure bliss.
True to his word, Sam rang a bell periodically during the next three days, leaving behind scrumptious, home-cooked feasts enough for six people. Then he’d slip away as quietly as he’d come. They fed one another as they cuddled in front of the fire, finishing every last morsel. Together they toasted Sam and Lexa and praised the Lord for bringing the entire TeamWork crew into their lives. They stocked the fridge in the cabin with the leftovers, and indulged in a few midnight snacks. “For sustenance,” Marc reminded Natalie, loving the sound of her laughter.
“So,” she said on the fourth day as they packed their bags, “what do we do now?” Looking down, she put a hand on her stomach. “The baby fluttered again.”
“No doubt from all the exciting activity during the last few days.” Marc winked as she flushed like a shy schoolgirl. Her bright eyes spoke volumes of the love she held for him. It made him feel even taller than Sam Lewis.
“We might have to come back to this cabin on one of our anniversaries, but now we go home, my love.” Picking up their suitcases, he followed her to the door. “Today we go home.” First, he had to move her back into the house, but it wouldn’t take long. That he could definitely handle.
Chapter 47
Mid-April 2001
“Marc.”
Sitting and enjoying a leisurely breakfast together in the kitchen, it was an unusually warm Sunday morning. Looking up quickly, he knew. It was time to meet their daughter. He smiled, thinking maybe the mental telepathy between Sam and Lexa was starting to rub off on them. In his eagerness, he shoved his chair back from the table and winced as it scraped the floor. Poised next to the table in a futile effort to beg a scrap of food, Elwood barked. Marc put his plate of half-eaten pancakes o
n the floor. “Knock yourself out, little buddy. It’s all yours. You wait here,” he told Natalie. “I’ll get your suitcase.”
Bolting up the servant’s staircase two at a time, he grabbed her bag from the corner of the bedroom. A week overdue, Natalie had grown increasingly anxious and eager to meet their child. He could handle irritable, and he’d become the expert soother and foot massager. Whatever it took. Catching a glimpse of his reflection in the mirror on the dresser, Marc grinned. “Today you become a father. Do yourself and Natalie proud. Baby, here we come.” With pure joy swelling his heart, he hurried down the stairs.
Three hours later, with Natalie settled in her suite and feeling comfortable for the moment, Marc ventured down to the emergency room. He couldn’t explain it, but he followed some kind of invisible pull. He figured Natalie could use a break from his pacing and nervous energy. He’d never chattered about inane things so much in his life. She’d heard a rundown of the scores of every Patriots, Celtics, and Bruins game the past season plus the prospects for the Sox in the current season. He found himself standing in front of the nurse’s station in the ER.
Behind the counter was the same blonde nurse who’d been so kind to him the night of Natalie’s fall. She paused, and a bright smile crossed her face when she saw him. At least she didn’t frown with one of those, Oh no, it’s you again looks. “Well, hello . . . Mr. Thompson, isn’t it?”
Impressive. “Yes. Good memory.”
“I take it you don’t have an emergency at the hospital today.”
“No. Nothing like that. My wife’s upstairs in the early stages of labor.”
She gave him a delighted smile. “Congratulations. That’s wonderful news.”
“My pacing was driving her crazy, so I thought I’d give her a much needed break. For some reason, I felt the need to come down here.” Marc’s smile sobered. He tilted his head, an odd sensation blanketing him. “Do you have any idea why it’s like my feet just brought me here to the ER? Now?”
A surprised look crossed the nurse’s face before a calm settled in her expression. “I think that feeling is called the Holy Spirit, Mr. Thompson.”
“What do you mean?” Somehow, the fact this nurse was a woman of faith didn’t surprise him.
She sighed. “Your friend Mr. Davis came in last night.”
It would be good to see the old man again, especially on such a happy day. He’d love to make Mr. Davis smile. Marc glanced around the nearly empty ER waiting room. “Where is he?”
“He’s dying.”
At her words, Marc’s heart slammed in his chest. “Is he . . . ?”
“Eighth floor. ICU. Tell them you’re family.”
He nodded and swallowed the sudden lump lodged in his throat. Tears stung his eyes. “Thanks. For everything.” Punching the button in the elevator for the eighth floor, his eyes glazed, but his heart was full. Mr. Davis was ready to let go of life and be reunited with his Ruthie and their daughter. Still, Marc felt nostalgic for the dear, gentle soul who counseled him about the ways of God that long-ago night. He wished he could tell him all he’d learned in the last few months, but perhaps he already knew.
The elevator doors slid open. Two nurses talked quietly behind their station, and they looked up as he approached. “I’d like to see Mr. Davis, please,” he said. One of them raised a finger and beckoned for him to follow. Coming around the corner of the hospital room, Marc paused as he spied Mr. Davis in the bed, hooked up to numerous tubes and monitors. The old man’s eyes opened. In spite of the exhaustion etched in the weathered countenance, Marc glimpsed recognition in the kind eyes as he pulled a chair close to the bed.
“Mr. Thompson.” Breathing labored, he outstretched a hand.
Marc captured the dry, gnarled hand. “How are you feeling?” The words sounded lame, but he didn’t know what else to say or how to express what he felt. His heart swelled as he gazed on the face of well-earned wisdom, the lines gained from a life worth living.
“My chains are gone, I’ve been set free.” The words were raspy, barely loud enough to hear.
The hand in his grew warmer as Marc held on as tight as he dared. In his off-key voice, he began to sing “Amazing Grace.” Hopefully, no one would ask him to pipe down. His heart was in the right place. As he sang, the old man’s eyes closed. Mr. Davis listened with a look of serenity and incredible peace. It was almost as though the hand of the Almighty caressed his cheek, whispering assurances it was all right to let go.
A few nurses gathered in the doorway. More than one wiped away tears, but they nodded for him to continue when he paused. Female voices soon joined in singing the familiar hymn. Forgetting the words of the third verse, Marc started in again with the first, and they followed his cue. Hearing a distinctly male voice, he turned and saw Dr. Adams standing behind the nurses. When he gave him a small salute, the doctor nodded and reciprocated. As they sang a few more quiet stanzas, Mr. Davis breathed his last, slipping peacefully into eternity, surrendering one final time.
“I’m not keeping score,” Marc whispered, leaning over to kiss his cheek, “but God gained a great player for His team today.” He rested his hand over the dear man’s heart. Somewhere, that old man was smiling. God, too.
Four hours later, their dark-haired, seven-pound-ten-ounce daughter came into the world, kicking and screaming. As one soul entered the gates of heaven on that beautiful, warm April day, another came into the world, into the waiting arms of her loving parents. New life, not to replace an old one, but to claim her place in God’s kingdom on earth. He’d pray for his child to one day share the strong, unwavering faith of a dear old man named . . . Abraham.
The miracles of God were everywhere, His favors boundless.
Holding his healthy baby girl, Marc smiled, a contented man.
EPILOGUE
Mother’s Day — Three Weeks Later
“Hi, Sam.”
“Marc, buddy. Heard you’ve had some excitement in your life lately. How are things in Boston?”
“Everything’s great. There’s someone I want to introduce to you and Lexa.” He sounded good, but weary.
“About time.” Sam pushed open the kitchen door and gestured for Lexa to pick up the other extension. “Hang on a second. I’m getting Lexa on the other phone.” He chuckled a few moments later. “Was that you drooling over your wife or a baby gurgling?”
“Hi, Marc.” Her eyes bright, Lexa moved one hand over her heart. “Congratulations! Who’s this little person you’re introducing?”
“Hi, Lexa. Hold on a minute while I shift her. This,” Marc said, paternal pride lacing every word, “is Grace Davis Thompson. We call her Gracie. She’s three weeks old today, and she’s the most gorgeous little girl you’ve ever seen.”
Sam and Lexa both sighed. “Amazing Grace, for sure,” Sam said. “I’m sure she’s a beautiful child, especially if she looks more like her mom.”
“Very funny.”
“Is Davis a family name?”
Hesitation for a few seconds. “More like a guardian angel for my little girl.”
“Marc, is everything . . . okay?” Lexa’s voice was quiet, and she darted another glance his way.
“Everything’s great. Gracie’s perfect and healthy. Sam, you’ll be happy to hear she has beautiful, dark hair like Natalie’s and we think she’ll keep the blue eyes. Pink cheeks, rosebud lips . . .” His voice caught in his throat, and they heard Natalie in the background. Marc lowered his voice. “I’m afraid our little princess got my temper, based on the way she’s kept us up four nights straight.”
“Enjoy every minute, my friend. It’ll pass all too quickly, and one of these days . . .”
“One of these days you’ll stop dispensing paternal wisdom and have one of your own, then we’ll compare notes, Cassidy. I’m praying for the two of you.” Even though he was teasing, Marc’s compassion came through loud and clear.
Sam slipped his arm around Lexa as he seated himself in his favorite living room chair, pulling
her onto his lap. He cocked a brow, and she nodded. Time to share the joy of their own news with their dear friends who lived too far away. “We’ll be comparing notes in about seven months, Sundance.”
Silence ensued for a few seconds as Marc grasped his meaning. “You and Lexa are expecting? Hallelujah!”
Sam kissed Lexa’s forehead, and nestled her closer. Slipping her hand beneath his shirt, she rested it over his heart. Smiling up at him, she mouthed, “Papa Bear,” her new nickname for him. How he loved it. With a smile as she kissed his cheek, Sam tightened his hold.
“We’re two months along. The doctors don’t know, can’t know everything. The four of us proved that. Remember, the Lord knows more than medical science.”
“Thanks for sending the book, Sam.”
He smiled, kissing the top of Lexa’s head. “I would have given it to you when you were here in Houston if I’d known Jumpin’ Phil was your dad. I think if you’ll read it, you might be pleasantly surprised.”
“I already have, and so has Natalie.” Sam heard the catch in his friend’s throat, understood the emotion behind it. “It’s given us both an entirely new and different perspective on Dad’s life. On his relationship with the NBA, my mom . . . everything. I wish I’d known some of those things when I was growing up, but God’s shown me it doesn’t do any good to dwell on the past. I’m going to have a lot to tell Gracie, and all our kids, about their famous grandfather. I tried to get a copy, but the book’s so far out-of-print, no one could find it. Only you, Sam Lewis, only you.”
Sam chuckled under his breath. “Glad I could oblige. Just remember, you’re every bit the champion, too, Marc, but in very different ways than your dad.”
“Thanks. We love you both. Happy Mother’s Day, Lexa. Talk to you again soon.”
~~**~~
Marc sat in the chair in front of the window. A light breeze fluttered the eyelet curtains, and the sunshine flooding the room reflected the brightness in his heart. He closed his eyes and blew out a deep sigh. Life doesn’t get any better than this, Lord.
