by Irene Hannon
“I’m glad to hear that, Reverend.”
“Today was a little different, though. He called me at six-thirty and said he had a matter of some urgency to discuss. I met him at church at seven, and we talked for about an hour. He told me his story, Cara. As well as the way he’d like it to end. When we finished, he asked me if I’d drop by to see you.”
She swirled the ice in her glass, staring at the opaque liquid. “To plead his case?”
“No. Just to let you know that I’m aware of the history, and that I’m available if you’d like to talk about it.”
Tracing her finger around the rim of the tumbler, Cara used one toe to keep the swing moving back and forth in a steady, predictable, soothing motion. “Our relationship has had problems for years, Reverend.”
“And they escalated after the attack on Sam.”
She gave the minister a cautious look. “Did he tell you about…the waitress?”
“Yes. It’s hard to forgive betrayal. Or almost betrayal. And perhaps even harder to learn to trust again. Sam’s well aware of that.” The minister’s manner was conversational and sympathetic, not probing. He didn’t push her to confide in him, and for that very reason Cara felt comfortable doing so.
“The funny thing is, I never thought I could do either. But after my own experience with trauma…” She stopped again. “Did he tell you about the shooting I witnessed?”
“No. All he said was that you’d had a harrowing experience of your own not long ago.”
“Yes.” Cara gave him a brief recap. “As terrible as it was, it did help me better understand how easy it is to lose control over your life—and to see things more from Sam’s perspective. And after I came to Oak Hill, it was obvious to me that Sam had changed, that his contrition was real. I prayed about it a lot, and in time my heart began to soften. I started to trust him again. But last night…” Her words trailed off.
“He got angry.”
“Very. It reminded me of how bad things were at the end.”
“I suppose the difference was that in this case, his anger was prompted by fears for your safety. In fact, I suspect he wasn’t so much angry as distraught with worry.”
“I realize that now. Still, the incident scared me. I thought I was ready to take the risk of loving him again, but now I’m not sure.”
“Haven’t you already taken it?”
Jolted, she stared at him. “What do you mean?”
“If you didn’t care for him, do you think you’d be agonizing over this decision? You’re hesitating because you’re afraid of being hurt again. But if you didn’t love Sam, you couldn’t be hurt, could you? Nor would you consider taking the risk.”
That was true, Cara acknowledged. She did love Sam. The ember had never died; it had simply been smoldering deep in her heart. And fueled by Sam’s kindness and consideration, it had been fanned to life again. Fear, not love, was the issue.
“You’re right. I just need to figure out how to get over being afraid.”
“Do you remember the sermon I gave the first weekend Sam came to services?”
“Yes. I’ve thought of it often.”
“It’s hard to beat the Lord’s advice, as recorded by John. ‘Do not let your hearts be troubled. Trust in God still, and trust in Me.’ And Ezekiel has some good advice, too. Chapter eighteen, verses twenty-one and twenty-two. Check it out when you have a minute.”
The minister took the last swallow of his lemonade and stood. “You’ve known Sam a lot longer than I have, Cara. I can only tell you that I’m impressed by his honesty and integrity. My gut tells me that he loves you, and that given a second chance, he’ll do his best to build a solid marriage. You’ll have to decide whether his sincere intentions are enough to justify the risk you mentioned.”
He stuck his hands in the pockets of his slacks and regarded her with a kind expression. “I didn’t come to advise you about your decision, but I can caution you about one thing. Don’t expect perfection. From either of you. Humans are flawed, and marriages aren’t perfect. Yet when both people are committed to making it work, to approaching it in an unselfish and loving manner, it’s the closest thing we have on earth to heaven.” He held out his hand, and Cara took it. “I’ll leave you to your thoughts. But I’m close by if you want to talk some more. And so is the Lord.”
As the minister disappeared around the edge of the house, Cara rose and headed for her bedroom to retrieve her Bible. Riffling through the pages, she found the passage in Ezekiel that Reverend Andrews had referenced.
“But if the wicked man turns away from all the sins he committed, if he keeps all my statutes and does what is right and just, he shall surely live, he shall not die. None of the crimes he has committed shall be remembered against him; he shall live because of the virtue he has practiced.”
There was a parallel in that passage to Sam, Cara conceded, her expression pensive. Though he hadn’t been evil, he had sinned. But he was trying his best to atone for his mistakes, living a virtuous, just life. If the Lord could forgive, if He could reward goodness and promise that no crimes would be remembered against a sinner who’d reformed, how could she do less?
All at once, the direction Cara had been seeking came to her. And with it, a sense of closure, and of peace. Her hand on the Bible, Cara spoke to the Lord in silent prayer.
Lord, You know that I’ve always believed that marriage is forever. And I do love Sam. Since we parted, I’ve felt a void in my life. I knew we had unfinished business, but I had no idea how to tie up the loose ends. Then tragic circumstances brought me here, to his house. I was given the opportunity to witness the changes he’s made in his life. To rekindle the love that has lain dormant in my heart all these months. To learn to trust, and to find a way to forgive.
Last night shook my confidence, Lord. But Reverend Andrews is right. And Marge was, too. None of us is perfect. In my heart, I feel You calling me to give our marriage another chance. Please grant me the courage to take that risk, and the wisdom and grace to persevere as we attempt to build a new life together.
Sam pulled his key out of the ignition and let out a weary sigh. He’d slept no more than a couple of hours last night, and risen early to talk to Reverend Andrews. The lack of rest and the unrelenting stress over his relationship with Cara had taken a toll. After finishing with his last patient at five o’clock, he’d been more than ready to call it a day.
Reaching down to the seat beside him, he lifted the bouquet of two dozen long-stemmed red roses. He’d considered calling Cara all day but hadn’t followed through. His instincts told him that their next conversation needed to be face-to-face. Except…her car wasn’t in the driveway, he realized, noting the empty space where she always parked.
Had she left?
Gone back to Philly?
He vaulted from the car, covering the distance to the back door at close to a sprint. His hand fumbled with the key, more clumsy than usual, and it took him two tries to insert it in the lock.
As he pushed open the door, the first thing he saw was a large note, securely taped on all four sides to the front of the refrigerator.
Sam. Please meet me at the inn.
For a few seconds he stared at the message. Had she moved out? Sought refuge with Marge? Striding down the hall, he threw open her door. Relief coursed through him as he scanned the room, taking in the shoes at the foot of the bed, the brush on the dresser, the blouse draped over the back of a chair. She hadn’t left. Thank you, God!
On shaky legs he retraced his route to the driveway and slid once more into the car. Lord, please help me smooth things out, he prayed as he drove toward the inn. Don’t let me blow this the way I blew it last night.
Most Mondays were quiet at the inn, and today seemed to be no exception. The place looked deserted when he parked in front. But he’d barely pressed the bell when the door was thrown open by Marge—almost as if she’d been waiting for him. Her eyes twinkled as she scanned the roses.
“Cara left me
a note to meet her here.” Sam felt warmth creep up his neck and hoped Marge wouldn’t notice.
Stepping aside, the innkeeper motioned him in as she reached for her purse. “She’s in the dining room. I’m going to St. Louis to visit a friend, and I don’t expect to be back until at least nine tomorrow morning. I don’t have any guests tonight, either. Make yourself at home.” She dug through the side pocket of her purse and withdrew a key, handing it to him as she brushed past. “You might find a use for that later.”
With that, she left, pulling the door shut with a decisive click before he could ask for clarification.
Quiet descended after Marge departed. Well, not absolute quiet, he realized as he absently slipped the key into his shirt pocket. Soft classical music played from the vicinity of the dining room. Forcing his unsteady legs forward, he walked down the hall, stopping at the doorway to take in the scene.
A table for two, in the middle of the room, had been set with white linen and silver. Crystal goblets reflected the golden light from the candles that burned in the center. Enticing aromas wafted from the kitchen, and the harp and violin music created a romantic ambience.
Despite the loveliness of the setting, it was Cara who drew his attention when she appeared in the doorway from the kitchen. He’d always considered her beautiful, but she’d never looked more gorgeous than at this moment. Dressed in a black cocktail dress, with spaghetti straps that exposed her shoulders and a skirt that revealed her shapely legs, she was stunning.
His mouth went dry, and his voice deserted him. All he could do was stare, leaving it up to her to break the silence.
“Hi, Sam.”
Her husky greeting did nothing to slow his metabolism. While he hadn’t been sure what to expect tonight, this hadn’t been it.
Clearing his throat, he tried to respond. It came out more like a croak. “Hi.”
“The roses are beautiful.”
He forced his gaze away from her and stared down. He’d forgotten he was holding them. Moving toward her, he held them out. “They’re for you.”
She took them, burying her face in the velvety petals as she inhaled. “They smell wonderful. Thank you.”
Up close, Sam could see the delicate pink tinge on her cheeks, as well as the sparkle of anticipation in her eyes. While an almost palpable undercurrent of excitement rippled through her, he also sensed an aura of peace. It was an arresting—and encouraging—combination.
“You…you don’t look like a chef tonight.”
He had no idea where that remark had come from, but the sudden, soft curve of her lips suggested that she found it amusing.
“Thanks. I think. But I did prepare a gourmet meal. I hope you’re hungry.”
“Sure. Yes.” Although he hadn’t eaten much all day, food was the last thing on his mind. But it was obvious that Cara had gone to a lot of effort.
“Have a seat while I put these in water.” She gestured toward the table and disappeared into the kitchen.
She was back before he had a chance to regroup, setting the roses on a nearby table, and while he did his best to do justice to a cheesy shrimp appetizer and a Caesar salad, Cara kept up a running commentary. He could tell she was nervous, but he was still trying to regain his balance and did little to contribute to the conversation, letting her take the lead. Only when they were halfway through the filet mignon entrée did he feel steady enough to take advantage of a lull in the conversation and ask the question that was burning a hole in his gut.
Clenching his napkin into a tight ball in his lap, Sam took a deep breath. “Cara, this meal, this—” He motioned around at the setting. “Everything. Does it…does it mean what I think it does?”
She looked down and toyed with her fork, confining her answer to a single soft word. “Yes.”
He felt the sting of tears, tears of relief, of joy, of gratitude. Of hope realized, of a wish fulfilled. His throat constricted with emotion, rendering speech impossible. Instead, he took her hand.
For several seconds she stared at the scarred fingers entwined with hers. Like his hand, their hearts had much healing to do. And scars would remain. But just as Sam had gone on to build a new, if different, life, so, too, would they.
Lifting her head, Cara looked at the man she had married. When she saw the sheen of tears in his eyes, her own vision blurred. The old Sam would never have allowed his emotions to show. Such a display would have indicated a loss of control, and vulnerability. The new Sam, however, seemed willing to take that risk, to share with her, to trust her with his heart. Just as she was willing to trust him with hers.
“The fact is, Sam, I never stopped loving you.” Her words were as soft and gentle as a lover’s caress. “But I was afraid of being hurt again. I didn’t think anything could convince me to give our relationship another chance. Then I ended up here. And I saw for myself how you’ve changed. I realized that you were sincere about wanting to start over, and I believe that you’re committed now to making our marriage work. I prayed about it a lot. And in the end, I couldn’t walk away. I love you too much. I always have.”
When her voice broke on the last word, he squeezed her fingers. “I love you, too. With all my heart.”
He rose and reached for her hands, pulling her up beside him as gratitude and adoration suffused his face. He might never be the most verbal man, but even without words, Cara could see that she was cherished and loved with a devotion that took her breath away.
When he lowered his head to claim her lips, Cara’s arms went around him, his strong shoulders and broad back familiar beneath her fingers as she melted into his embrace and gave herself to his kiss. It felt good in his arms. And right.
It felt like coming home.
When Sam at last drew back, he searched her face, drinking in the familiar features that had brightened his life since the day they met…and filled his dreams while they were apart. After their unexpected kiss a week ago, doubt and fear had flickered across her face, leaving him filled with a wrenching uncertainty about the outcome. Tonight he saw a glow of happiness, a contentment and serenity, that wiped away any lingering apprehension. The ending he’d prayed for had been given to him. Cara was home at last.
Pressing her cheek to his chest with a hand that wasn’t quite steady, he rested his chin on her soft hair and stroked her back, enjoying the feel of her in arms that had been empty for too long. As empty as his heart. And he marveled at her willingness to forgive and to trust again, after all his mistakes. It was a precious gift that he would thank God for every day of his life.
He could have stayed like that for hours, but after a few moments she eased back slightly. “Whatever is in your pocket is leaving a permanent impression in my cheek,” she teased, her voice a bit husky.
Puzzled, he fished around until his fingers encountered the forgotten key. He withdrew it and held it out for her inspection. “Marge gave me this when I arrived. She said I might want to use it later, but I have no idea what it’s for. She left before I could ask her.”
Backing up a little more within the circle of his arms, Cara read the tag that was attached to the key. When soft color suffused her cheeks, Sam tipped her chin up with a gentle finger and gave her a quizzical look. “What is it?”
“It’s for the Rose Room.”
That didn’t mean a thing to him. “Why would she give it to me?”
Her color deepened. “It…it’s the honeymoon suite.”
A soft chuckle rumbled deep in Sam’s chest. “Marge, a closet romantic? Who would have guessed?” Then his eyes darkened and he stroked her cheek. “She also told me she’d be gone until tomorrow morning. And that no one else is staying at the inn tonight.”
Cara tilted her head and looked at him, a smile whispering at her mouth. “We haven’t had dessert yet.”
His slow, answering smile warmed her from the tips of her toes to the top of her ears. “I think that’s what the key is for.”
Stepping back, he held out his hand in invitation. He c
ouldn’t think of a better way to seal their renewed commitment. He prayed Cara would agree.
She didn’t disappoint him. Without hesitation, she placed her fingers in his.
And as he drew her toward the grand staircase, Cara recalled a remark Reverend Andrews had made earlier in the day. He’d said that when two people are committed to making marriage work, when they approach it in an unselfish and loving manner, it’s the closest thing we have on earth to heaven.
That’s what she was determined to create with Sam. Heaven on earth. And she knew he felt the same way.
She knew something else, as well. With their renewed commitment, with faith in God’s loving care and endless grace, they would succeed. And together they would build a bright and shining future from the ashes of their past.
Epilogue
“You lucked out with the weather, Cara. August can be a sauna in Missouri. The balmy temperature must be a good sign.” As Marge flicked a minuscule speck of lint off Cara’s teal-green, short-sleeved silk suit, the innkeeper smiled. “My, you look lovely. As pretty as any bride.”
Surveying herself in the full-length mirror set in an ornate Victorian frame in the Rose Room, Cara had to admit that she did look like a bride. She might not be attired in the traditional white gown she’d worn when she and Sam were wed, but the soft blush of color in her cheeks and the sparkle in her eyes was the same as it had been on their wedding day.
“I feel like a bride.”
“You should. A vow renewal is a very special occasion. And I’m honored you chose to have the ceremony here.”
“The inn will always be a special place for me, Marge. And for Sam. We didn’t consider doing it anywhere else.”
“It will also be your second home soon, if reservations continue to pour in at the rate they did this past week. Now that the word is spreading that you’ve signed on for a permanent gig, I can’t keep up with the calls. I took a reservation this morning for December.”
