He led her into the suite and its sitting room. “This is lovely,” she said of the room, and then she walked over to the bay window and said the view was beautiful.
He stood beside her and gazed out. Snow lay on the bare-limbed cherry trees and whitened the ground.
She glanced at him. “Thomas, have you been interviewing me for a job in your hotel?”
He said, “Yes.” Her face turned from him, and her shoulders rose with a deep breath.
“I love you, Gloria.” He heard the release of her breath, and she faced the view. “I want to offer a permanent position here in the hotel, as my wife.”
“No.” She turned toward him then. “I don’t want a job in a hotel.”
Now it was his turn to take a deep breath and hold it. He read that face wrong. Assumed too much.
But then her eyes and voice no longer held uncertainty. “I can’t take the job offer. I’d rather be a volunteer.”
Did she mean. . .at Wildwood? At the hotel?
His eyes questioned, and hers began to dance. “I want to be with you wherever you are, whatever you’re doing. If you have to sleep in an alley again, just make sure there’s enough room for me.”
“I do have an empty hotel.” He put his hands on her shoulders. “It’s really true that this acclaim I’m getting may never happen again. Even if it does, there’s no guarantee—”
“I know that.”
He moved the errant lock of hair aside, and she lifted her face as he lowered his. Their lips touched, sealing their commitment to a life together. He did not let his lips linger too long, because. . .he wanted to so much.
They moved apart, and he said, “Was that a yes?”
“Definitely.”
“Come,” he said. “I want to show you something.” When they reached the living room, she gasped to see the painting over the mantel. There stood the picture of her in the black satin dress in the snow with her eyes revealing what he had hoped was love, although that hint of uncertainty accompanied it.
“You’re wonderful,” she said.
He looked at the little knight in his armor she’d given him for Christmas that sat on the mantel beneath the painting. His grandmother said remember who you are and behave accordingly. The Bible said put on the armor of God so that you won’t be defeated but will stand strong in the face of adversity.
“Gloria.” He turned to her. “I’ve already committed my life and my painting to the Lord. I kept that commitment to painting for three years.”
She nodded and smiled.
“Now I’m committing my life to you, too, above my painting. I expect that to be a lot easier than those three years. You look and smell better than some I’ve encountered in alleys.”
“Thanks a lot,” she said.
“Now, let’s go look at rings.”
She touched her head and her heart.
“I know,” he said. “But let’s look at rings anyway.”
thirty-five
Thomas never failed to surprise her. The ring was no surprise. They’d looked at them together, and he gave her one of several she couldn’t choose from. He did that on New Year’s Eve as they sat in the only place they had to be alone, and that was the hotel living room.
He’d made snacks and turned on the TV. They settled on the couch to watch the Times Square ball drop in New York City and talk about plans for their future.
He surprised her by saying, “Let’s date.”
“Date?” They just got engaged to be married.
“Yes, go places. The shelter and the homeless and the volunteers are in our hearts and minds to stay. They’re part of us and we of them. But there’s the other side of life, too. The beauty of God’s creation. The hopes and aspirations of mankind.”
“Now that sounds academic.” She popped another piece of popcorn into her mouth.
He smiled. “I didn’t appreciate the history of this area until I took the local history class under Dr. Woodrow Lawing. He’s a bachelor who has devoted his life to his teaching and his students. He taught by taking us to see the sites of DC. I was thinking you and I might tour DC and surrounding areas as part of our honeymoon. But I decided I’d like to do it now.”
She squealed and threw a piece of popcorn at him. “You mean, have the honeymoon before the wedding?”
“Hey, don’t tempt me,” he said as playfully as she had made her statement. “Let’s bloom where we’re planted for a while.”
“I like that,” she said.
“Okay. So I will plan the pre-wedding. . .outing, and you decide where we spend our honeymoon.”
“Well, that depends on how much money. . .we have.”
He shook his head. “No way. I’m not going to chance that. I think you liked me better homeless and shaggy than successful and good looking.”
“What am I going to do with you?”
“Marry me, that’s what.”
She looked at the TV for a moment then turned to him again. “It’s not that I liked you better. After I got the idea of security out of me, I wanted to be with you even if we had to survive on my minimum wage and live in an empty hotel.”
“Hmmm,” he said, as if that wasn’t a bad idea.
“But when you made it as an artist, and now with the book, I thought there might not be a place in your life for me, personally.”
“Did you ever notice I dragged you along with me everywhere?”
“I thought it was because I had a small part with your book. You were kind.”
“I struggled to keep you out of my mind because I had that prior commitment. But you kept haunting me since the first time we met at the creek and you wanted to save me from diving into the water.”
She smiled. “You saved me instead. You’ve been in my thoughts and life since I saw that gleam in your eyes when I splashed water on your face.”
And so they watched the ball fall and the New Year come in with all its promise. In the days to follow, whenever weather permitted and roads weren’t cluttered with cars left stuck in the snow, they began to. . .date.
They visited the monuments and the Smithsonian museums to remember the greatness of America and the principles on which it was built. And the Hill. “Did you know,” Thomas said, “where the Capitol stands was once a swamp off the Potomac River?”
“No, I didn’t.”
“Well, it was. And it can teach us a lesson. We may at times think we’re living in a swamp, as I did one night trying to sleep in a smelly, hard, cold alley. The sky was threatening to give me a bath. But every once in a while the moon peeked out as if to wink and say, swamp today, Capitol tomorrow. And then I could lie there and laugh and be accepted by the rest of the homeless.”
“I love the way you make an analogy out of everything, a lesson learned.”
He grinned. “And did you know it’s required by federal law that no building be taller than the Capitol?”
“I do now, and that reminds me there should be no gods put before God, not even. . .ourselves.”
“Now we’re communicating.”
They went to Old Town Alexandria and visited the unique shops, art studios, and small galleries, and they tried the ethnic restaurants, having a choice of Chinese, Vietnamese, Indian, Thai, Latin American, African, and European.
They visited the Bonsai Gardens at the national arboretum, admiring the miniature plants, some hundreds of years old.
Finally, March came, bringing warmer weather, and so they viewed the trees surrounding places like the Washington Monument. The buds were getting ready to burst into bloom.
“I’ll take you to see a different view,” Thomas said. “The observation platform.” From there they looked over all of DC and part of Virginia and Maryland. But most breathtaking was standing 500 feet up and looking down on the cherry trees.
“Have you decided on the honeymoon?”
“I’ve thought of several possibilities. But you help me on this.”
“Okay,” he said. “I’ve been to Paris.
A romantic city. Has everything from little sidewalk cafés to the Eiffel Tower, and there are boat rides on the Seine.” He grinned. “The Louvre, of course. Your turn.”
She nodded. Since he was thinking abroad, she suggested, “Medieval castles and famous gardens of Europe.”
“Hawaiian Islands with their swaying palms and hula girls.”
“Ahem.” She cleared her throat. “Israel and seeing what God called the most beautiful place on earth and walking where Jesus walked and going out on the Sea of Galilee and riding a camel.”
She stopped talking. He was staring at her. “I like that very much.”
“Jim and Clara have sponsored Israeli children for many years. They’ve always talked about going. But it’s expensive.”
“We could take them with us. Your parents, too. Maybe Jim and Clara could visit some of the children they sponsored. Maybe I could—”
“Paint them,” she said at the same time as he. “Oh Thomas. That would be so wonderful.”
“And we could take along one of the younger couples we know,” he said. “James and Arlene wouldn’t leave the children that long.”
“What about Ted and Libby? They’re such fun. Had it not been for Ted we wouldn’t have had that first kiss.”
“Not so. I had in mind to have you stay after the party. And I planned to kiss you if you’d let me. I wanted to sooner but thought you wouldn’t want to kiss a man with a bush on his face.” He gazed at her. “Would you?”
“I didn’t exactly think it, but I was aware when I sprinkled water on your beard that you had nice lips and a great smile.”
“You mean I could have been kissing you all along?”
“No. I just mean I was. . .aware. It’s not the same.”
Thomas’s eyes brightened. “Ted has a private jet, too.”
“And they can take a nanny along for their baby if they want.”
“You wouldn’t mind sharing your honeymoon with all those people?”
“I don’t think we’re going to be alone no matter where we go. So why not have friends and relatives in the next room instead of strangers? I love that idea.”
“Anyway, I expect our honeymoon to last a lifetime. We can have an empty hotel all to ourselves for a while before we leave on the trip.”
“I like that, too. We can look out on our own cherry blossom trees.”
“My thoughts exactly,” he said with a teasing gleam in his eyes.
thirty-six
Spring came with all its beauty. Gloria stood at the third-floor bay window in the sitting room looking down on the cherry blossom trees in full bloom. Along with Thomas’s creative ideas, she’d chosen a cherry blossom theme.
Her mother gave the final smoothing touch to the fingertip veil. “Now turn around and let me look. Oh darling, you’re so beautiful.”
Gloria felt beautiful. Love could do that to a person and especially when their beloved groom-to-be had said it. She’d chosen a long silk organza strapless dress, simply elegant, and carried a large bouquet of peonies, ranunculus, sweet peas, petite jasmines, and cherry blossoms.
Her mother said a short prayer with her before going downstairs to await the bride’s descent down the three flights of stairs. They’d agreed on a small wedding of their closest friends, those who had attended Thomas’s Christmas party. They would have receptions at Wildwood and at the church after returning from their Israel trip. Maybe a drop-in reception at the hotel and any gift ideas would be donated to a shelter.
For now, however, she heard the wedding march. The piano had been moved near the glass doors so Clara could play and watch her come down the stairs.
She walked down, touching the railing lest she stumble if her emotions got the better of her. At the bottom of the stairs, waiting for her, stood Thomas in a formal suit and bow tie, and a wearing a cherry blossom bud boutonnière. Frank was taking pictures.
Their friends and family stood in the foyer. When she reached the lowest step, Thomas winked at her and turned to go into the living room. The others followed. Her dad held out his arm and escorted her into the living room where Jim stood in front of the fireplace to perform the ceremony. Thomas reached for her hand, and they turned toward Jim.
The words were beautiful. They repeated their vows after Jim. When she expected, “Now I pronounce you man and wife,” it didn’t come. Thomas took a step away from her. Softly, piano music sounded and Thomas began singing, “Unforgettable.”
She’d never felt such a wonderful feeling sweeping through her as she stared into his eyes and he sang the love song. Words like forever. . .incredible. . .someone unforgettable thinks that I am, too.
Jim pronounced them husband and wife. Their friends and family applauded, and Ted whistled. The guests were steered toward the dining room for chocolate and cherry wedding cake.
Thomas’s hand held her back. When the others had gone, he drew her to him, and they shared their first private kiss as husband and wife. It was all and more than when they stood on the porch in the snow.
“You said,” she teased, “there were two kinds of kisses.”
He nodded.
“What was that one?”
He scowled. “I can’t say. We might have to try it again.”
She pulled on his coat sleeve and for an instant glimpsed the painting over the mantel and the knight beneath it.
He had said this is where she belonged. She knew that was true. He sang that she was forever unforgettable.
And she knew he was forever her Knight to remember.
She-Crab Soup
(served at the Veranda in Black Mountain, NC)
Ingredients:
6 onions
2 pounds of butter
2 sticks of celery
1/3 cup crab base
1 cup Old Bay
1 bottle cooking sherry
1 bottle white wine
1 (14.5 ounce) can chicken broth
8 cups water
2 cups heavy cream
2 cups sour cream
5 cups flour
2 cups half & half
2 cans crab meat
Directions:
Chop onions and sauté in 1 pound butter for 20 minutes. Chop celery and add to onions. Add crab base, Old Bay, sherry, white wine, chicken broth, and water. Cook until veggies are tender (about 35 to 40 minutes) then puree with blender until silky. Add heavy cream and sour cream and place back on stove to boil. Prepare the roux: l pound butter, 5 cups flour, and 2 cups half & half, using blender. Add roux to boiling soup and let it thicken. Add crab meat.
About the Author
YVONNE LEHMAN is an award-winning, best-selling author of 50 books, including mystery, romance, young adult, women’s fiction, and mainstream historical. She founded and directed the Blue Ridge Mountains Christian Writers Conference for 25 years and now directs the Blue Ridge “Autumn in the Mountains” Novel Retreat, held annually at the Ridgecrest/LifeWay Conference Center near Asheville, NC.
dedication
Thanks to Cheryl Wilson, ABCCM (Asheville Buncombe County Christian Ministries) Volunteer and Special Events Director who has worked with the homeless in the Asheville area for the past thirteen years. She met with me in a coffeehouse and graciously answered all my questions—and those I didn’t know to ask—about the homeless, shelters, and volunteers.
A huge thanks to Jeff and Palette Butler, proprietors of the Veranda Café & Gifts, the best place to eat lunch in Black Mountain, North Carolina. They’re located on the street that our thousands of annual tourists know about: Cherry Street. They have unselfishly let me use their recipe with the secret ingredient that fits perfectly in my story.
A note from the Author:
I love to hear from my readers! You may correspond with me by writing:
Yvonne Lehman
Author Relations
PO Box 721
Uhrichsville, OH 44683
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