Wrapped in Red: A Three Rivers Romance Novella
Page 10
His steps slowed, and he shoved his hands into his coat pockets. Now it was his turn to have his guard up, unsure and cautious. That last trait—something she’d do well to cling to, because all common sense was floating away as fast as the snow flurries surrounding them. She stayed put, and he stopped five incredibly long feet away.
“What are you doing down here? I thought you’d be at your family’s.”
“I was. Just needed a little bit of quiet. Figure out some New Years resolutions.” She shrugged and tiptoed closer to him when a crowd of teenagers swarmed past. If she took her eyes off of him for a second, she was afraid she’d wake up.
He started to turn away, Merry’s heart dropped to her feet, and she squeezed her eyes shut. She wasn’t strong enough to let him go again. My strength is made perfect in weakness. That still, small Voice again. But what did it mean? Why, oh why did she just have to come down here? Opening her eyes, she watched Sam back away.
“Don’t let me keep you,” were his words, but his eyes spoke far more. Had he really missed her as much as she’d been missing him? But something was different tonight. The last time they’d been at such an impasse, he’d fought for her.
But now he was walking away.
And more often than not, surrender called for more strength than fighting.
Don’t be stupid, Merry Grace. A fiery explosion shrieked through the air, and Merry jumped. The crackle of the first firework could be heard overhead, but her heart still thrummed loud and fast in her ears. Two strong hands curled around her upper arms and spun her around gently—which didn’t help her heart rate.
“Are you okay?” That chocolate-rich voice cracked like a teenager’s, and Merry wanted to weep.
He’d come back.
“I’m okay now.”
Except fear snuck in, whisking away any more words right off her tongue, and Merry held her breath, not daring to move a muscle out of Sam’s loose embrace. Fear of hurting him, of stepping one toe outside of God’s will—fear of messing up. All of that at war with just wanting him. Not just any special someone—her special someone. Imperfections and issues and pasts and all.
She just wanted him.
And God was faithful. She knew that, now. His perfect love drove out fear and bolstered her courage.
The golden lights of the city at night warmed Sam’s eyes to glow with a new, tentative hope.
Merry reached up and covered his hands with hers. “I’ve missed you.” Three little words, and Sam pulled her in closer, leaning his forehead against hers. The city beamed and sparkled, ready to welcome in the new year behind them, but nothing compared to how her heart felt aglow in this moment. In the arms of a man she longed to come home to.
Sam shuddered, his sigh rife with relief. “I’ve missed you too.” He lowered his mouth until it rested a breath above her lips, waiting. But she was done hesitating. And so she rose on tiptoe, met him right where he stood, and she fell. No, floated. Sam’s lips stretched into a smile as he cradled her face and drew her deeper into the kiss, and she wanted to cry, having to hold onto him for dear life, lost in this free fall—but not afraid.
Snowflakes fell on her lashes when Sam pulled away, and she could breathe again. At least until the fireworks resumed, sending her deeper into his embrace. Sam pressed a kiss to her forehead, and he gathered her closer against the calm of his heartbeat.
“I know I’m crazy to suppose…I’d ever be the one you chose…”
Oh, but the man couldn’t sing. If she hadn’t known the old song, she’d think he was just half-talking, half-humming. She was helpless to hold back the laughter that bubbled up, and he rested his chin on the top of her head with a tender sigh.
“My voice?”
Merry lifted her head from her new favorite spot right above his heart, twined her arms around his neck, and guided his head down to meet her lips. “No. Just you.”
Red arcs of fire burst into the sky above them before beginning a slow, majestic descent as one year was traded in for a new blank-page one. New beginnings, fresh starts—but the same, all-sufficient grace. Wrapped in the arms of an imperfect man with the biggest heart, held in the palm of the Ultimate Author’s hand.
She was right where she was supposed to be.
And it was sweet.
Acknowledgements:
To my family: Thank you for putting up with me through so much. For my crazy self-imposed deadlines that had me tearing my hair out, and rearranging our plans. I love you guys.
Friends: For your steadfast encouragement, excitement, and support. For believing in me and reminding me to keep putting this story back in God’s hands, that He would see it through. And He did. In spite of this spastic work-in-progress Northern Belle author over here. I cannot say thank you enough.
Special thanks go out to Teresa Tysinger, Kara Swanson, Carrie Schmidt, Pepper Basham, Rachel Dixon, and Danielle Skiles. For the brainstorming, the critiques, the fangirling, the reading of the earliest piecemeal draft, your prayers, and so many late night text sessions talking me down off ledges. Me, and this latest heart-story of mine, would not be the same if not for you.
And to the One who ultimately inspired this story with a plan for my life that wasn’t what I would choose. The One who’s making beautiful things out of ashes of deferred hopes and dreams. This story is a marker for me, to look back upon and say, Thus far, the Lord has helped me.
He IS good. His love endures forever. And I hope and pray you, dear reader, come away encouraged to hold onto the Truest Hope this holiday season.
About the Author
Meghan M. Gorecki is an author of inspirational fiction, a blogger, book reviewer and voracious reader. Holding a lifelong passion for faith-filled stories of multiple genres, Meghan finds joy in encouraging other writers along the journey as much as she can. Taking her life a day at a time as God leads, Meghan has begun pursuing a career in the publishing industry as an editor in training and is an active member in the American Christian Fiction Writers. A hopeless romantic, history and Marvel nut, she’s also a redhead (thanks to a box), who knows way too much trivia about old movies and the Civil War.
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