The Way of Women
Page 30
“And they are all for you.” The nurse leaned down to give Lissa a quick squeeze.
Jenn laughed along with the others until her gaze caught the sight of a broad-shouldered man with hair shot through with gray. “Frank.”
“Where?” Katheryn looked around. “Oh, my word, what have we here?”
Jenn’s heart did a triple-time dance and threw in a kick step for good measure.
“You are one hard woman to track down.” He stopped in front of her, ignoring all that was going on around them.
“You’re looking good.”
“Better than last time?”
“Yes.”
“I went clear to New York, but you weren’t there.”
“I left New York.”
“I know. Your doorman told me.”
Frank stared into Jenn’s eyes. “I … I’ve made some changes since we last saw each other.”
Oh God, help me. Jenn couldn’t have torn her gaze away if she tried—or wanted to. “I see.” Oh, no you don’t. Give him a chance. “What changes?” The words fought to stick in her throat.
“I’ve been through rehab, and by the grace of God, I’ll not drink again.”
“Good for you.” Staring into his eyes was like toppling over into a sun-warmed pool. He took her hand and tried to draw her off to the side, but she refused. “You can say what you want in front of my friends.”
Frank shrugged, but kept hold of her hand, as if afraid she might run again. “You said you loved me. What kind of love are we talking about? Is that the man-woman kind of love or friendship kind of love?”
“If I have to explain, then I think you’re missing something. I think you know how I love you.”
“Good thing, then, ’Cause I don’t want to have to do any more growing up before you’ll marry me.”
“Marry you? Frank, are you sure?” Jenn tipped her chin slightly, never taking her eyes from his.
“Surer than I’ve been about anything in a long time. I love you, Jennifer Elizabeth Stockton. So, will you be my wife?”
Jenn turned at the sound of clapping and cheering. They were surrounded by hospital personnel, Lissa in her wheelchair, visitors, Katheryn, and Mellie.
“Tell him yes,” someone called.
“Quick, before he gets away,” added another.
Frank put his hands on her waist. “Please.”
The love she saw shining in his clear eyes did it. “Yes.”
More clapping and cheering erupted as Frank locked his arms together with her in their circle and kissed her. The kiss was all she’d dreamed of. When he pulled slightly back, she leaned forward and kissed him again. “Come on, Officer, we’re blocking traffic. And that little girl needs to get to her new temporary home.”
Frank took her hand, and the two of them joined the others walking through the earth-bound balloons.
“Here, honey, one for you to keep.” One of the attendants handed Lissa a red balloon.
Out from under the portico, Lissa looked up at the balloon bobbing above her head and let go of the ribbon. “That’s for my daddy. He lives in heaven with Jesus.”
They all watched the balloon ascend, a gentle floating rather than an eruption.
Some days were indeed for remembering.
The visitor rose, stretching legs gone numb from sitting. The hoopla had died away, the press packed up cameras and recorders, the sightseers gone off to recount their memories or overheard stories.
Remembering. Can life go forward without looking back? Can one face the past but not live there, let go but learn? For life is in the now, not yesterday and not tomorrow, but the now. But today was for remembering. And now is for looking forward, looking within and shutting the door on the might-have-beens. So much loss, like timber downriver, passing along on its way to some unknown destiny. Who would have thought so much life could come out of the ashes?
The visitor saluted The Lady with a slight bow. “May you rest in peace and beauty.” And walked back down the trail that had denied access all those years ago.
About the Author
Lauraine Snelling is a member of the more-than-two-million-books-in-print club. With her dream to write “horse books for kids,” an actuality, researching her Norwegian heritage inspired her to craft An Untamed Land, volume one of the Red River of the North family saga, which quickly became a bestselling trilogy chronicling the Bjorklund family.
Writing about real issues within a compelling story is a hallmark of Lauraine’s style, shown in her contemporary romances and women’s fiction, which has probed the issues of forgiveness, loss, domestic violence, and cancer. For example, The Healing Quilt explores the relationship of four diverse women who come together to supply their community with a much needed mammogram machine.
All told, she has had over fifty books published and her works have been translated into Norwegian, Danish, and German, as well as produced as books on tape. Awards have followed Lauraine’s dedication to telling a good story: the Silver Angel Award for An Untamed Land and a Romance Writers of America Golden Heart for Song of Laughter.
Lauraine frequently teaches at writer’s conferences across the country and at her home in the California Tehachapi Mountains. She mentors others through book doctoring and with her humor-laced Writing Great Fiction tape set. Lauraine also produces material on query letters and other aspects of the writing process.
When she’s not trying to keep up with reader demands for her books, Lauraine enjoys gardening amidst the flowers, fountains, and hummingbirds of her backyard as well as playing Rummikub. She and husband, Wayne, have two grown sons and a daughter in heaven.