Loving Treasures

by Gail Gaymer Martin

  Feeling more comfortable than she'd felt in years, Jemma nestled in the crook of Philip's arm and gazed at the glowing horizon as the fiery colors melted into the shimmering gold water. The brilliance couldn't hold a candle to the joy blazing in her heart.

  Philip shifted, and she turned to him, sensing he wanted to talk.

  "Could we go back in time and start again?"

  "Back? How far?" She wondered what he was suggesting.

  "Probably the first time I hesitated to do what my heart told me to do. That was about day two."

  Heat warmed her cheeks, and she was pleased that the orange sky camouflaged her flush. "I can't bear to go that far back."

  He couldn't bear to go back that far, either, but they had to. "How about the night on the boat?"

  "What part of that night?"

  He noticed her tender blush even in the glow of the setting sun. "The part where you kissed me."

  "You mean you want me to—"

  He nodded before she finished. She hesitated, shifting on the bench and sliding her hands along his arms, and his muscles tensed with anticipation. When she reached his neck, she lifted her hands and caressed his jaw, his cheek, and let her fingers play along his lips.

  Longing rose in him at her touch. A flame kindled in his chest and spread to his limbs.

  She tilted her full mouth toward his and slid her hand to the back of his head, pulling him down to meet her lips.

  In pure abandon, he surrendered. Jemma's stifled gasp melted to a moan, and Philip's hopes were answered. Her lips parted against his, the warmth radiating from her heart. He captured her against his chest, longing to make her his own.

  Temptation. Like a neon sign, the word lit in his head and he warned his eager heart. He would do nothing to hurt her, nothing to destroy the purity of their love.

  Jemma eased away, trembling and breathless, and for once he opened his heart and let out the words he'd hidden for so long.

  "I love you, Jemma."

  Surprise filled her face as she searched his eyes. "I love you, too," she said in a whisper. "I've never loved anyone as much."

  His own thoughts echoed her words even as guilt and sorrow nipped at his conscience. He'd been unfair to Susan. He'd loved her, but not like this.

  Jemma's expression told him she was sensing something wrong. "What is it?"

  Weighing whether he was wise to tell her, he decided honesty was the beginning of a pure, untainted love. He'd messed up earlier with his evasiveness. Somewhere along the line, he needed to tell her the truth about her position at Bay Breeze. But not tonight. He wanted nothing to ruin this important moment.

  "I was thinking about my relationship with Susan," he began. She listened as he poured out his heart, and he looked toward heaven, thanking God that Jemma seemed to understand.

  When he had finished baring his soul, she kissed his cheek and then his lips. He turned her face toward him and kissed her moist eyes, his heart bursting with love.

  "I was thinking as you talked," she said, "how we learn so much from experience. You're not alone, Philip. I made mistakes in my marriage—things I wish I could change. There are sorrows that I feel deep inside."

  She slid into the crook of his arm and talked into the darkening sky.

  "I don't know if things could have been different. Sometimes I think we tune out God and make our own decisions without his guidance. If I'd listened, I'm guessing the Lord would have told me marrying Lyle was a mistake."

  He nodded thinking of his own experience, wondering if he, too, had tuned the Lord's voice from his mind and bungled along his own path.

  "I don't know if Lyle was as miserable as I was. And you don't know about Susan. Maybe she accepted your marriage, like the vow 'for better or worse.' We never know which it will be, but we accept it. That's what I did."

  Philip had done the same, but still felt he should have tried to make things better.

  " 'What ifs' aren't constructive," Jemma said.

  His pulse surged at her comment, almost as if she'd heard his thought.

  "What we need to hang on to is God's guidance. If you and I learned from our mistakes, we can be better marriage partners. We realized our mistakes, and we're repentant."

  "And forgiven," he said, surprised that he'd spoken aloud.

  "I think God's forgiveness is something you and I haven't accepted." She tilted her head and looked into his eyes.

  "I think you're right."

  "Does that mean we don't trust the Lord?"

  Philip shook his head. "No, it's more like we feel unworthy."

  "Yes, you're right."

  Her soft laugh surprised him.

  "How can we be unworthy," she asked, "when God created us and loves us? Even more than I love you…and you love me."

  The concept was unbelievable. Philip rose, taking Jemma's hand and drawing her to his side. With his arm around her waist, he stepped toward the railing. "You're a true disciple, Jemma."

  "Only inspired," she said.

  He saw the love in her eyes and he knew they had so much more to talk about. He prayed they had a lifetime to do so.

  Philip stood outside the Fellowship Church, surprised he'd agreed to attend. But he realized he was there for Jemma…and for himself.

  Too much time had passed since he'd sat in the Lord's house and listened to God's Word. Philip believed, he prayed, he followed the commandments, but he didn't worship publicly. He'd tossed rationalizations around in his head often—time, inclination, lethargy.

  When he did go to church, he would sit in the service and his mind would drift, planning the day's activities and solving his business problems. When the service was over, he felt no different than he had before he walked in—except maybe resentful for having wasted his time. Not resentful of God. God never wasted his time. God had provided him with gifts beyond his belief. But the service had wasted his time. He left feeling spiritless.

  Attending this church today was important to Jemma, so it was important to Philip. And that's why he'd come with her despite his responsibility at the resort. Someone else would handle the crises.

  "Come on," Jemma called, halfway up the stairs before he had stepped around the car.

  Grinning at her eagerness, he helped Claire from the back seat, and she swept out, dressed in one of her colorful Indian print dresses.

  "You're a vision, Claire," he said, taking her arm as they headed for Jemma.

  "Seeing you here is a vision to me," she said with a soft chuckle.

  Jemma waited at the door until Philip and Claire caught up with her. Her face glowed, and he wished he'd been more genuine with his faith sooner. Her questions about his belief had no doubt caused her concern. She deserved so much more.

  As soon as Jemma opened the door, Philip heard the difference. Music from an organ and piano sailed to greet them with a spirited hymn. The vitality caught in his chest, and he looked around, amazed at the smiling faces that greeted them as they passed through the entrance to the worship area.

  "Good morning," voices called, as he followed Jemma down the aisle to the front. Once they were seated, he peered through the morning program, reading lists of meetings and events, amazed at how active the congregation seemed.

  The opening hymn brought him to his feet, and on all sides hands lifted in praise as voices rang through the sanctuary. When he was seated again, Bible verses were read, and the choir sang, filling his heart with unexpected comfort at their message.

  Today he understood what it meant to praise. He heard it in their voices and saw it in their faces. Why hadn't he realized before that this is what he needed? He smiled, seeing how God works in mysterious ways, not only bringing Jemma into his life, but bringing Jemma's pure, simple wisdom into his heart.

  When the preacher came forward for the sermon, Philip waited with curiosity. Would he drift off again to solve resort concerns…or think about the wonderful moments with Jemma in his arms? Even on a good day he had a difficult time keeping thoug
hts of Jemma from occupying him.

  The pastor opened the Bible and looked at the congregation. "Listen to God's Word from the third chapter of Proverbs. 'Blessed is the man who finds wisdom, the man who gains understanding, for she is more profitable than silver and yields better returns than gold. She is more precious than rubies—nothing you desire can compare with her.'"

  Gooseflesh rose on Philip's arms. Wisdom. He felt the soft flesh of Jemma's arm beside his, her eyes directed at the preacher. Jemma had become Philip's wisdom, telling him that age didn't matter, that the important thing in life was learning from experience to be a better Christian and a more loving mate.

  She is more precious than rubies; nothing you desire can compare with her. His heartbeat quickened, and he slid his hand to hers, winding their fingers together as one. He needed to know this wasn't a dream—that it was real.

  Philip felt her warmth against his hand, the blood pumping through her veins. She turned once and sent him a smile that anchored him to the truth. Young or old, God had meant for them to be together.

  And what was seventeen years? A heartbeat in God's time. They would manage…more than man-age. They would live and be a family. And if Jemma wanted children, then…he would be a good father. He imagined himself at fifty-five or fifty-six playing ball with a young son, combing a little girl's hair. The picture hung in his thoughts, alien but sublime. He sensed this was God's plan for him and prayed that Jemma was hearing the same message.

  When the service ended, Philip knew he would come back to worship, and he understood why Jemma had brought him here—God's wisdom. Some people moved down the aisle, some exited the church, others came forward to pray.

  He followed Jemma outside, feeling alive and spirit-filled. On the sidewalk, Jemma and Claire introduced him to friendly faces, people whose names he didn't remember and whose words he couldn't recall. All that clung to his thoughts was that God understood his fears and had spoken to him through the Word.

  "What did you think?" Jemma asked when they reached the car.

  "Very nice," he said. "I know why you wanted me to come. Thanks."

  Jemma didn't ask him to explain, and although he sensed Claire's eagerness to grill him, she used good sense and remained quiet. When they pulled up at Claire's, he declined her invitation for coffee. He needed to get back to work, but more, he needed time to think. Time to find the perfect way to confess his dishonesty about Jemma's position, and tell her how much she'd changed his life.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Looking down the leaf-strewn path, Jemma ran ahead of Philip, her laughter sailing behind her. She couldn't wait to see the overlook that offered a view of the sand dunes and Lake Michigan.

  Jemma's heart swelled as she breathed in the pungent September air. She'd never felt as carefree and as loved as she had during the past few weeks.

  "Hurry," she called, glancing over her shoulder and motioning.

  "Wait up," Philip said. "Give a guy a chance to breathe."

  She dashed away again, her feet dancing through the colorful autumn leaves that covered the path and canopied the sky overhead. Red and gold shimmered with sunlight, contrasting with the spindly evergreens that clung with shallow roots to the sandy floor.

  Philip stopped and spread out his arms. "Have mercy," he said, his laughter punctuated by gasps.

  Jemma spun around and raced back, bounding into his embrace and wrapping her eager arms around his neck.

  He kissed her nose and chin, then slid her to the ground. "You have to remember a reality, my lady—" along with the nickname he flashed her a sly smile "—seventeen years does have its drawbacks."

  Jemma laughed and tucked her arm around his waist. Lately, he'd been a good sport about the age difference and she tried to be patient. He'd made a positive improvement.

  Ahead, Jemma saw the trail open and she pulled away. "Sorry. I can't wait," she said, running backward for a moment before she spun around and darted ahead.

  The sight was awesome. Rolling dunes stubbled with beach grass, silverweed and beach peas extended down to the bright blue water.

  In seconds, Philip reached her side and leaned against the railing. "What do you think?"

  "God's world. When you see raw nature, you wonder how people can question whether or not there's a God."

  He nodded and slipped his arm around her shoulder. "And the scenery's almost as perfect and beautiful as you are."

  She started to disagree or give him a playful poke, but she stopped herself. Sweet words and tenderness were something new to her, something she needed to learn to welcome. She'd never had another man make her feel so cherished.

  When she had taken in all she could of the quiet loveliness of the surroundings, she nudged Philip forward, anxious to see more of the park.

  Arm in arm, they followed the path in silence. Only the snap of a twig, the rustle of leaves or a bird call pierced the hush of the woods.

  "This is the best time of year to follow the trails, I think." She dipped down and gathered a handful of fallen leaves, holding them out in front of her. "When else can you find a full palette of color?"

  He grinned, and she sensed he was about to tell her he saw it in her eyes or in her heart. Instead, he nestled her closer and remained silent.

  She scattered the leaves along the path until he drew her to a stop.

  "What is it?" she asked.

  He tapped the side of his head with his index finger. "Forgetful. I've been meaning to ask you if you'd be my date for the Chamber of Commerce fall icebreaker."

  She looked at his face, trying to read his expression. "Icebreaker? What's that?"

  "It's just a get-together like an open house, to invite new businesses in the community to get involved with the Chamber of Commerce. It's casual. No big deal, really."

  His unexpected invitation was a big deal to her. He'd never asked her to be his escort before, and her shoulders tensed.

  He must have noticed because he lifted his hands and kneaded the muscles above her shoulder blades.

  "You'd do me a favor," he said. "I'd like you to go with me."

  She spun around and faced him. "Are you sure? You don't have to do this."

  His eyes filled with tenderness. "I know I don't. I want to. It's time I introduced the world to the woman I love."

  She drew in a shuddered breath, knowing how difficult this was for him. "I love you, but…" She searched his eyes for the truth. "Yes, I'd love to be your date."

  He pulled her against his chest, then took her hand and they headed off again. After only a few yards, they reached the visitor center and stopped near the building.

  "You've already been inside the center." Philip tucked his hands in his windbreaker. "What do you think? Ready to go?"

  She looked overhead at the powder-blue sky. Never. Today was too glorious to sit in her flat or at Philip's. Nowhere had she seen such an abundance of autumn colors and glorious sunshine. "Must we?"

  He chuckled. "No. What do you have in mind?"

  His tone left a double-sided question. What did he have in mind? Grinning, Jemma tugged from her pocket a folded brochure that she'd found inside the center and scanned the map.

  Philip studied the park layout over her shoulder. "Well, what do you wish?" he asked, whispering the W sounds against her neck.

  Pressing her jaw to her shoulder to stop the tickle, she giggled, then spun around, her brochure flapping in the breeze. "Let's go to the picnic area and…do anything. Play catch?"

  He shrugged and shook his head. "No ball." But in a flash, he gave her a thoughtful scowl and headed for the car. He lifted the trunk, reached inside, then turned toward her waving a Frisbee.

  "Wonderful." She left the visitor center sidewalk and crossed the parking lot to his side.

  "Someone left this at a Chamber of Commerce picnic a couple years ago. No one claimed ownership, so I tossed it in the trunk. Who'd know it would find a use?"

  Playfully, she rolled her eyes. "God."

&nbs
p; Philip knew she was right. He'd finally accepted that God was in charge. With Jemma's hand tucked in his, they continued down the path toward the picnic area. He found the walk faster along the asphalt road.

  In a few minutes they arrived, and Philip peered beyond the scattered couples at picnic benches, looking for a treeless stretch of grass. He wondered if the picnickers were as in love as he felt.

  Noticing a spot, he beckoned to Jemma and they trotted onto the grassy expanse. Jemma took off running backward, creating a distance, and Philip stood still, facing her. She looked like a young girl, sheathed in faded jeans and a pale pink T-shirt. She motioned she was ready, and Philip curled his wrist and let the plastic disk fly through the air.

  Jemma leaped and caught it, flinging it back in one smooth motion. He caught the disk and made a good return. Tossing it back and forth like pros, they ran and jumped to make perfect catches. Philip rallied, realizing he was doing pretty well for a man of fifty.

  Out of nowhere, a dog's ferocious bark distracted him. Wary, he glanced over his shoulder and saw a large chocolate Lab darting toward him, followed by a man in pursuit. His back was to Jemma, so the Frisbee sailed past. He flinched, sorry he'd missed, but praying the dog wasn't as vicious as his bark.

  "Sorry," the fellow called, nabbing the dog's collar and bending down to capture the plastic disk. He kept his distance. "He's usually gentle, but he saw a squirrel." He shrugged apologetically, then lifted the Frisbee. "Should I toss it to you or pitch it back to your daughter?"

  Philip's stomach tumbled, and he swiveled his head, praying Jemma hadn't heard. She stood too far back and her smile let him know she hadn't. Philip forced a pleasant expression and extended his arm. "Toss it here. Thanks."

  "I'll keep this mutt out of your way," the man said, clasping the dog's collar and guiding him back to the table.

  Philip stared at the disk, then at the young man— he guessed him to be, at the most, twenty—and wondered if the rest of the world thought he was Jemma's father.

  "What's wrong?" Jemma called.

  Hearing her voice, he turned and beckoned to her. He'd lost his spirit for the game and was struggling to maintain his composure.