by Wade, Becky
CHAPTER
Seventeen
Garner’s Journal Entry
I just reread the first pages of this journal. I wrote them when Sylvie left, when I was desperate for her to come back. I loved Sylvie. I honestly did.
All these years later, I’ve gotten my wish. She came back.
She said she wanted to surprise us.
She surprised me all right. I felt the blood drain from my head when I opened the door and saw her there. She’s just like I remember, but she’s different, too. The whole time we ate dinner and talked, I struggled to get my head around the reality of her. Back in Washington. Inside our house.
The girls could tell things weren’t right with me. They kept glancing at me doubtfully.
Willow and Nora were fascinated by Sylvie. They were also shy around her so they didn’t say much, either. Sylvie kept the conversation going pretty much by herself.
After dinner, she brought out gifts for Willow and Nora. Toys and French caramels and clothes. The three of them had a great time playing. At one point, Willow mentioned to Sylvie that we have a hammock in the woods. Sylvie insisted on trying it, even though it was dark out and past the girls’ bedtime. The three of us led Sylvie to the hammock. I stood there watching them swing wildly from side to side, roaring with laughter, until Nora threw up because she’d eaten too many caramels and Willow got motion sick and they both started crying.
After I got them bathed and in bed, I found Sylvie on the terrace, smoking a cigarette and drinking black coffee. She was sitting on a lounge chair and she looked like a still from a movie. Flawless.
She talked about Willow. She told me about her round-the-world tour and the life she made for herself in France when her tour ended. She asked me about my life. When we both fell silent, I could hear crickets and frogs. Stars hung above us. But the peaceful setting was in direct opposition to my emotions, which were dark and frustrated and angry.
She snuffed out her cigarette and set aside her coffee and leaned across to where I was sitting. She ran her palm over my hand and up my forearm, then met my eyes. “You look good, Garner. Even better than I remember.”
I stared at her, empty of words.
“It’s been too long since we’ve made love, don’t you think?” she said. “I’ve missed it. I’ve missed you. Let’s go upstairs together.”
None of the choices concerning Sylvie had been mine to make until that moment. She was the one who decided to date me, to have Willow, to leave, to return. For the first time in years, I had the power to decide what would happen between us. As soon as I was given that power, I knew what my choice would be.
My choice was no. My choice was done.
I felt no stirring of emotion in the face of her movie-star beauty, or her hand on my arm, or her invitation to bed. I was finally able to let go of the last of the love I had for her, and all the bitterness, too.
Done.
I took a hammock ride with Sylvie Rolland once. It was full of thrills while it lasted, but just like Willow and Nora’s hammock ride with Sylvie, mine ended in heartache and regret. I never want to do it again. I don’t want to be chained by the memory of it any longer, either.
I removed Sylvie’s hand from my arm and told her that I’d moved on. It felt like victory, to say those words and mean them. It felt like the end of a story that needed finishing.
Sylvie can continue to be in Willow’s life. She can’t have custody, but, fortunately for Willow and me, she doesn’t want custody. I don’t think she’ll ever want it. She enjoys dropping in or calling or sending a package when the mood strikes her. That’s the version of motherhood she prefers, and she can have it. But she can’t have me. I won’t simmer with anger over her anymore. Or stew with guilt.
I’ve carried a tremendous amount of guilt because of my affair with Sylvie and because of Robin’s death. I’ve asked for God’s forgiveness countless times. Academically, I know that He’s forgiven me. However, I’ve never been able to forgive myself.
Tonight, here in my room, with Sylvie sleeping a floor below me and my girls sleeping in the room next to mine, I’m finally ready to release the guilt.
Done.
I’m forgiven. It’s hard to believe. It doesn’t make sense. It’s not fair or deserved, but it is true. I’m forgiven.
God’s grace is like a rushing river. It’s far more powerful than I am. My sins don’t stand a chance against it.
I’ve made awful mistakes, but I’m beginning to realize that God was able to use those mistakes. He’s been working behind the scenes for my good all along. If I’d had my way, I wouldn’t have Willow. I wouldn’t have Kathleen.
Through Kathleen, God’s extending a second chance to me. No, not a second chance. A third.
I’m thankful. I’m very thankful that God’s plans for me were different than the plans I had for myself.
CHAPTER
Eighteen
Phone Message from Kathleen to Her Friend Rose
Garner didn’t come to work today. I had a horrible night’s sleep and now I’m sick to my stomach because I’m so worried that he’s spending the day with Sylvie and that she’s busy casting her spell over him.
What’s happened to me, Rose? Nothing but Estée Lauder used to get me even half this emotional. Now I’m a basket case. Being in love stinks! I don’t want awards or promotions or applause or a job at Estée Lauder. I just want Garner. That’s all.
Handwritten Letter Slipped beneath the Door of Kathleen’s Apartment
Kathleen,
I’m really sorry about last night. I had no idea that Sylvie was coming, and I apologize for the predicament that put you in.
Sylvie’s leaving tomorrow so the girls and I are going to spend the day with her. I think it’s important to Willow for her parents to have a friendly relationship. So I’m trying to be nice. I’m making an effort to be a good host.
We’re leaving to go to the zoo soon. Since I don’t want to call you at the office, I decided to write. On the way to the zoo, I’ll drive by your apartment and drop this off.
I want you to know that I love you.
What I used to feel for Sylvie was a young man’s love.
What I feel for you is an older, and hopefully wiser, man’s love.
I acknowledge that it’s a lot, to ask you to date a man with a past like mine. I’ve had a child out of wedlock. I’ve been married before. I’ve been marked by tragedy. I come with two little girls who will look to any future wife of mine to be their mother. I’ll never move to New York. I can’t. I have to stay here because it’s my responsibility to run the company that carries my family name.
I’m well aware that you could date someone without as many faults. It would probably be easier on you to date someone who won’t worry about you as much as I will.
You’ll have to make sacrifices to be with me, Kathleen. I’m sorry for that. But if you choose to be with me anyway, I promise to love you with everything I have for as long as God lets me.
You’re a gift I never expected. You’ve changed my life and made me believe in a future I couldn’t even imagine until I met you.
I’ll be home tonight. If you want, you can call me at the usual time. But I’ll understand if you need a few days to think about everything I’ve written. Or if you decide not to call. You’re free, Kathleen. You’re free to choose.
—Garner
Phone Conversation between Kathleen and Garner
GARNER: Hello?
KATHLEEN: Garner.
GARNER: Kathleen?
KATHLEEN: You said I could call at the usual time.
GARNER: Are you crying?
KATHLEEN: I’m laughing and crying at the same time. Your letter! Oh my goodness, your letter.
GARNER: I wasn’t sure how you’d react.
KATHLEEN: I adore your letter. I’ve read it one hundred times since I got home from work.
GARNER: You have?
KATHLEEN: Yes. I’ve committed whole sections of it to me
mory.
GARNER: I’ve been afraid . . . that you wouldn’t call.
KATHLEEN: I would—very much—like to date you. Garner? You still there?
GARNER: Yes, sorry. I’m smiling too much to talk.
KATHLEEN: I’m smiling, too. When Sylvie leaves, maybe I can take you and the girls out for chocolate cake.
GARNER: Maybe I’ll take you and the girls out for hot fudge sundaes.
KATHLEEN: Maybe we’ll order both. Dutch treat.
Phone Message from Kathleen to Her Friend Rose
Garner loves me! Disregard my pathetic message from earlier in the day. Delete it please, and don’t ever tell a soul about it.
All is right with the world, Rose. All is right with the world!
Phone Message from Kathleen to Her Mother, Margaret
Mom, can you do me a favor and sit down?
Are you sitting? Okay, everything’s fine. No need to worry. I’m calling with very happy news, actually. You were right about Garner Bradford having a girlfriend. He does.
His girlfriend is me.
Which is why I wanted you to sit down.
Don’t be alarmed. Don’t be upset. I’m telling you this news through a message on purpose, so that you can hear it and have time to adjust to it before we talk. Please don’t call me back for at least forty-eight hours, okay? In fact, let’s just wait to talk until I see you at the country club on Saturday.
He’s a wonderful man, Mom. I think, once you get to know him, that you’ll like him as much as I do.
This really is good news. Yay! I’m going to stay in Shelton and date Garner and help him save Bradford Shipping.
If I don’t answer my phone between now and when I see you at the country club, it’s not because I’ve been in a car accident. It’s because I’m giving you time to adjust. If you need to talk to one of your children about this, call Shane. He’s wonderful. So consoling!
Love you. Bye.
Phone Message from Margaret to Her Friend Dorothy Four Days Later
Yes, it’s true that Kathleen’s dating Garner Bradford. He’s from a well-respected family. He has an excellent job. And he’s proven himself to be of good character since his first child was born. Not to mention, he’s smitten with Kathleen and he’s certainly handsome. I’ve always favored men with light eyes.
All in all, I’m pleased. Truth be told, I’ve thought all along that they’d make a good match.
Card from Kathleen to Garner One Month Later
Happy birthday, Garner!
You’ve enriched my life in too many ways to write down. However, I feel compelled to write down at least a few.
You understand me. You accept my weaknesses and my strengths. You make me feel at home. You listen. You kiss really, really well. You’re a great friend to me and a great father to your girls. You’re not too shabby as CEO. And you make the best homemade pizza.
I love you. I really do.
—Kathleen
Note Tied with a Ribbon to a Solitaire Diamond Ring Two Weeks Later
I love you, Kathleen.
Will you marry me?
CHAPTER
Nineteen
Garner’s Journal Entry
It’s been a long time since I’ve written.
Kathleen and I married last summer and today, April 20, 1992, our daughter was born.
Brittany Margaret Bradford
7 pounds, 12 ounces
18 inches long
She’s perfect and healthy and Kathleen is perfect and healthy and Willow and Nora, now six and four, are perfect and healthy, too. The older girls are in awe of the baby. Hopefully, they’ll continue to be, at least until we bring her home from the hospital and they start resenting her. We’ll cross that bridge when we come to it.
I’m only home for a minute, to shower and pick up the things Kathleen wanted me to bring to the hospital for her. But I’m feeling sentimental and incredibly grateful, so I’ve hauled out my old journal.
I’m married to Kathleen.
I’m the father of three wonderful girls.
I’m the luckiest man in the world.
Work is still challenging for me. It looked for a while like our best efforts might not be enough to pull Bradford Shipping back from the edge. Change was expensive and painful. But the task force and I overhauled the company anyway, and eventually, the tide began to turn. The first quarter of this year, we posted a profit. And we just landed two huge new accounts. All without updating our computer software.
I’m laughing because Kathleen would be mad at me if she knew I’d written that. I don’t want her to be mad at me. Ever, but especially not today. What Kathleen doesn’t know is that I’ve already spoken to our staff about updating the software later this year. Her ideas about our software were right, after all. Just ahead of their time.
Fear is still challenging for me. I don’t curb Kathleen’s independence, but it does scare me when she goes out alone. Because she knows how I feel, she never walks or runs by herself. Still. I struggle with anxiety. Every day, I pray for Kathleen’s safety and for the safety of the girls. I never take their well-being for granted. Not for a minute.
Optimism is still challenging for me. There are times when I’m terrified that Kathleen will leave. However, those times are fewer and fewer. Every day that I wake up beside her leads me to hope just a little bit more that God might give us many, many years together. Kathleen’s strong and persuasive and feisty. Feisty enough, I hope, to stick with me and refuse to give up on us.
I’m desperate for the chance to grow old with Kathleen. To raise our daughters together, to celebrate holidays, to renovate Bradfordwood to its former glory, to eat chocolate cake and hot fudge sundaes together, to watch each season fade into the next.
Despite the challenges, I really am the luckiest man. I love my wife. I love my girls. And they love me. We’re a family.
The future is no longer heavy and gray. The future is golden, I hope. I’m stepping into it with anticipation. Anticipation and expectancy.
“Be strong and courageous. Do not be terrified; do not be discouraged, for the Lord your God will be with you wherever you go.”
—Joshua 1:9
The Bradford sisters are all grown up!
Begin the Bradford Sisters Romance series with Nora’s love story,
True to You.
Keep reading for a sneak peek. . . .
True To You
A BRADFORD SISTERS ROMANCE
Becky Wade
© 2017 by Rebecca C. Wade
Published by Bethany House Publishers
11400 Hampshire Avenue South
Bloomington, Minnesota 55438
www.bethanyhouse.com
Bethany House Publishers is a division of
Baker Publishing Group, Grand Rapids, Michigan
Printed in the United States of America
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means—for example, electronic, photocopy, recording—without the prior written permission of the publisher. The only exception is brief quotations in printed reviews.
Scripture quotations are from the Holy Bible, New International Version®. NIV®. Copyright © 1973,1978,1984, 2011 by Biblica, Inc.™ Used by permission of Zondervan. All rights reserved worldwide. www.zondervan.com
Cover design by Jennifer Parker
Cover photography by Mike Habermann Photography, LLC
Author is represented by Linda Kruger.
CHAPTER
One
Finding oneself at the mercy of a crazed gunman isn’t all fun and games.
Nope, thought Nora Bradford. Not at all. Not even when said gunman was an actor toting a fake gun and you’d volunteered your time to play the role of hostage for noble reasons.
According to her sister Britt, Lawson Training Incorporated staged emergency situations just like the one they were in the midst of as the culminating exercise of every cours
e they offered. Today’s trainees were civil workers from the town of Centralia. Directly beyond the wall of the room where Nora and Britt had been stashed, the civil workers were attempting to respond strategically to a faux enemy trying to take over this faux office building.
Given the current state of the world, Nora certainly believed in the value of emergency preparedness and response training. In fact, Nora had agreed to come along with Britt today because Britt had framed this outing as something proactive the two of them could do to further the cause of world peace. Nora wanted world peace! It was just that, with every passing minute, she was growing more and more certain of her unsuitability for the role of hostage. Her decades-long love of reading had instilled in her a very vivid imagination.
To her ears, the agitated shouting of the gunman sounded all too terrifyingly real.
Tension had been mounting steadily within her, tightening her shoulder muscles and causing her stomach to constrict with unease, ever since the “attack” had begun. She should have opted to further the cause of world peace by volunteering in her church’s soup kitchen. The soup kitchen was more her speed.
Angry yelling carried through the wall, followed by a few shrieks of fear.
Nora swallowed. Shrieks of fear? She could only hope that the volunteers who’d been cast as office workers were taking artistic license.
Britt, of course, seemed oblivious to the ominous commotion. She was four years younger than Nora, the baby of their family, and the bravest of them all.
Britt curled her fingertips around the bottom edge of the room’s lone window and tugged. “I think we should try to escape.” She smiled at Nora the same way she’d smiled at Nora whenever she’d suggested mischievous childhood adventures. Her eyebrows ticked upward delightedly.
