Everlasting Love

by Linda Ford

  Holly sucked in air. Mom was alive. That was good news. She'd left Dad. That was bad news. Holly stared at the pine board floor as she tried to take it in. "Mom can't have left you. You guys have a good marriage."

  "I thought so but I guess she didn't."

  Holly tried to make sense of her dad's announcement. "Maybe she's just upset at something. Go talk to her."

  "I don't know where she is. I haven't heard from her since she left. It's been a week. Has she called you?"

  "Not in days."

  "You'll let me know if you find out where she is?"

  "Of course."

  Her father said goodbye and broke the connection.

  Holly leaned over her knees and moaned.

  Steele found her like that, sat beside her and put his arm around her. "Holly, what's wrong?" He rubbed her shoulder.

  She turned into his arms and buried her face against his chest. Shudders racked her body. She did not cry. She felt nothing but shock.

  "Who was on the phone?" Steele probed gently.

  "My dad. Mom's left him."

  Steele rubbed her back, stroked her hair. "I'm sorry. Perhaps it's temporary."

  She pretended she didn't hear the doubt, the resignation in his voice. She understood he'd seen too many marriages go down the tubes to be convinced of his words but she didn't want to deal with the reality of his viewpoint. Right now she just wanted the comfort of his arms.

  "I've always believed in forever marriages because of them. They've had problems and dealt with them. They share the same joys and hopes and dreams. How could this happen?"

  Thankfully he didn't spout any meaningless platitudes.

  "How will I tell Nan?"

  "I don't know. Must you?"

  "If she finds out I knew and didn't tell her, she'll never forgive me." He smelled good, felt warm and strong. "I don't know what to do," she wailed.

  "Would you like me to pray?"

  "Oh please." She pushed herself off his chest. It hardly seemed appropriate to be thinking of the way he smelled and felt while talking to God.

  He took her hand and bowed his head. "Heavenly Father, this is not good news. We ask You to work things out according to Your will."

  He made it sound as if things could end in more than one way. She didn't like that idea. But he'd said, 'According to God's will'. God created marriage to last a lifetime. His will would surely be for Mom and Dad to get back together.

  "Thank you," she whispered. "I have to believe this is only a little bump in the road."

  He cupped her cheek and turned her to face him. "Keep believing. Keep trusting. It's what you do best. It's one of the things I like about you."

  And before she could do more than blink at his admission he liked something, anything, about her, before she could think to ask what other things he liked, he lowered his head and kissed her. She sighed and forgot everything she should wonder about. Forgot everything but how right this felt.

  He lifted his head, smiled at her as he searched her eyes. Whatever he saw there his smile widened and he kissed her again then reluctantly, it seemed to her, pulled her gently to her feet, and led her toward the door. "It's time to go home."

  She made a protesting noise and he chuckled, the sound strangely hypnotic.

  "We've never really discussed this but—" He paused. "Do you have an escort to the banquet?"

  Never really discussed it? More like never mentioned it. She knew she wouldn't have time to be a proper date so she'd planned to go alone. "No," she said. "No one."

  "Then may I be your official escort?"

  She laughed, a sound of pure joy that found its way from some unfamiliar place behind her heart. The idea of being Steele's date made her momentarily forget her Dad's announcement. "I'd like that."

  He dropped her off at her apartment. As she climbed the steps, she tried to hold onto the feeling of security when he'd held her, the oneness expressed by his kiss. But by the time she turned her key in the lock, the pleasure and wonder of it had been consumed by worry about her parents. Nan had already gone to bed. Holly tiptoed into the living room and dialed Mom's cell phone, received a message the customer was out of area. Mom, where are you? What's going on? She left a message begging her mother to call.

  When the phone jangled the next morning, she dove for it. Recognizing her mother's hello, Holly sank to the couch in relief. "Mom, where are you?" She repeated her silent words of the night before. "Dad phoned me. What's going on?"

  "I had to leave." In faltering tones, her mother told her story. "A man stayed at the resort. A good-looking man with a quick smile. He paid me compliments. Made me feel special. You know how romantic I am. How I like those little gestures."

  "Guess I inherited that from you."

  "Well, I'm going to tell you, there's nothing romantic about being unfaithful."

  Holly's stomach clenched. The air blasted out of her as if someone had stomped on her chest. "Mom, you didn't—" She couldn't think it, let alone say it. "Say you didn't."

  "It never went that far."

  "Thank God. Where are you?" Mom gave the name of a friend.

  "Dad's really worried. He wants to call you."

  "I can't talk to him."

  "Why not? You two have always talked about everything."

  "What I did was wrong. Besides this is only a symptom of a faltering marriage. I just feel like there's no magic left."

  "Walking away from Dad is wrong. Didn't you always tell me two wrongs don't make a right? Mom, at least talk to him."

  "I will on one condition—you promise not to tell him what I told you about...well, you know what."

  "I'll leave that up to you."

  They said tearful goodbyes. As soon as the connection ended, Holly dialed her father's number and told him to call her mother.

  "Did she say what was wrong?"

  "You need to ask her. Dad, send her flowers. Make her feel special. That's all she needs."

  "I have to go. I have to call your mother."

  Holly said goodbye. She leaned back to the cushions and groaned.

  Nan sat at the table listening to every word. "What's going on?"

  "Mom left Dad. She doesn't seem happy in their marriage any more. She said the magic was gone.

  Nan tsked. "You mother always did think with her heart rather than her head."

  Holly knew she was like her mother in that way. She liked romance, feeling special. She liked the charm and enchantment of flowers and cards, the concrete evidence of love. "Isn't that an okay thing?"

  "Child, the head should always rule the heart."

  "I don't understand."

  "Feelings are great. God created us with emotions. But feelings should always be guided by facts. There are times I don't feel like God loves me. Does that change His love? No. So instead of believing my weak emotions, I trust His love. A man and woman marry, usually with hearts overflowing with emotional love. Do you suppose that impassioned feeling lasts day after day?" She chuckled though Holly failed to see anything amusing. "Believe me, it would be exhausting if it did. But while the feelings wax and wane, the commitment is consistent. Feelings are subject to facts."

  Holly considered Nan's words as she made coffee and toasted bagels for breakfast. "But Nan, doesn't love need to be fed to survive?"

  She felt Nan's quiet study of her before her grandmother added, "Love is many things. People need different aspects of it at different times in their lives."

  Holly left a short time later, Nan's words replaying in her mind. She couldn't imagine what Mom needed at this time of her life except for Dad to show his love in romantic ways. She was grateful she was too busy most of the day to fret about it and had to hurry home early to prepare for the banquet, leaving Meggie to end the day on her own.

  9

  Steele looked at the corsage in his hand—a white orchid to be worn around the wrist. Pops's idea. Just as it was Pops idea for them to travel separately tonight. He insisted he'd pick up Jean and then
Steele could come for Holly. Steele snorted. Good thing Pops was too old for Holly. They would have been soul mates—both so romantic.

  He climbed the steps and knocked at the door. Holly pulled it open. He felt his chin dangling. With great effort, he clanged his mouth shut.

  Her dress skimmed over her body like spun silver. She'd pulled her hair into a bouncing creation on top of her head. Tiny curls cascaded from it down her neck and in front of her ears. He reached out and tugged one curl, and laughed as it sprang back into place. She'd done something with her eyes so they looked bigger, darker, more full of love and trust though he wondered if he didn't detect a hint of worry. No doubt concern about her parents' marital problems.

  "You're beautiful." One word for the way she looked? He needed the whole dictionary and even that would be inadequate.

  "You're looking mighty fine yourself." She touched his tie, straightening it. Her fingers brushed his chin, practically stalling his heart.

  "For me?" She nodded toward the corsage box.

  "Hope it's all right."

  She opened it, slipped the flower over her wrist. "Perfect. Thank you." She placed a quick kiss on his chin. A butterfly kiss that echoed inside his stomach and multiplied a thousand times. If one small flower could fill her eyes with pleasure and make her react this way, he just might reconsider his feelings about flowers and romance.

  He crooked his elbow and let a surge of pleasure fill his chest as she placed her hand on his arm. He led her down the stairs and into his vehicle.

  She sighed as he climbed behind the steering wheel.

  He didn't like the sound. Had he'd forgotten something? "What's wrong?"

  "I don't feel much like partying. Not with Mom and Dad split up." She turned to face him, her expression worried. "Mom called." She shook her head. "I don't know what's going on with her. I wish I could tell you about it but it's Mom's story."

  He paused, grateful his fingers were on the keys in the ignition because he felt an incredible urge to pull her into his arms and comfort her as she had comforted him at the museum. Her touch and her words had eased the tension accompanying the memory of that crying little boy. He found he could let it go.

  Slowly, trying to plan what to say and do, he reached for her hand and held it. "Holly, if there's anything I can do?"

  She turned her hand, twined her fingers through his. "Thank you for offering. Let's go have a good time."

  He promised himself he would do everything he could to ensure she enjoyed the evening. She deserved a reward for all her hard work and dedication.

  The minute they stepped into the hall, several people rushed up to them demanding Holly's attention.

  "The coffee pot isn't working." "One of the judges called in sick." "Did you want—?”

  Steele steered her through the questions. "Give her a chance to get in the door." He guided her to the head table. "I'll send someone to replace the judge," he murmured. "You explain the scores sheets. I'll deal with the rest." He put the coffee pot on another outlet so it didn't blow the breaker. He made several fly-by decisions then returned to Holly's side.

  She brushed his hand. "Thank you, Steele. That was sweet."

  Her touch filled his veins with warmth. He leaned over, intending to tell her again how beautiful she was but Pastor Don showed up at Holly's side. He'd agreed to emcee the event and flipped through his notes. "It's time to start."

  As he moved to the mike, Holly grabbed Steele's hand.

  "It's going to be great," he said, and led her to their places at the table. He could hardly wait until she discovered his surprise contribution.

  Pastor Don welcomed everyone. "To get us all focusing on the real purpose of the evening, I ask you all to sit back and enjoy a brief presentation."

  The lights dimmed and the slide show Holly and her friend had prepared began. Come and join the band of love scrolled across the screen and then pictures that faded and blended—crying babies, wide-eyed toddlers. For a minute, Steele wondered if they were going to be inundated with pictures so sad that none of them would be able to eat. And then the music changed slightly, growing more upbeat. Love is— and pictures of people touching others, handing out food and water, washing feet; staff hugging and comforting children, playing games with them, teaching them to read. The music gained another beat. Children sang in rollicking, African melodies. A children's choir appeared on the screen and then the pictures focused on boys and girls playing various rhythm instruments. Share your love. Join the band, scrolled across the screen. The pictures faded and from the murky background came a picture of a beautiful African girl, about ten, he'd guess, her nose buried in a white flower, her eyes reaching out to the audience.

  The screen faded to black.

  Steele welcomed the moment before the lights came up again, giving him a chance to blink back the sudden sting in his eyes.

  He felt the emotional silence around him and then an outburst of applause and cheers. "That was a great presentation. You and Heather did that?"

  "I'm afraid neither of us can take credit. Her parents were over visiting and when her father heard what we wanted, he took on the project. He's a hobby photographer. He did a great job, didn't he?"

  "Excellent." He suspected some of the images would haunt him for a long time.

  Pastor Don rose and prayed, asking for blessing on the food and for the needs of the children to be met.

  The food was excellent. Even the salads that Holly pointed out matched the red, white and blue theme. As the caterers cleaned up the main course and prepared to serve dessert, tea and coffee, Steele got up to explain the band competition.

  The bands, despite their funny names, were excellent. Finally Freddie and the Bent Fenders won with their crowd-pleasing combination of blue grass and classic rock, combined with a touch of stand up comic.

  Holly grinned at him. "That was fun."

  Steele nodded. "The music was great too."

  She blinked, glanced at their clasped hands, and color rose in her cheeks. He held on when she tried to pull away.

  "I enjoyed the evening," she whispered. "Much more than I thought I would."

  He hoped he'd been part of the reason. He had gone out of his way to make her laugh. Enjoyed teasing the little curls hanging down her neck.

  Pastor Don took the mike again. "I think we all agree it's been a great evening." Cheer and applause. "Let’s hope we've contributed to putting a new roof on the orphanage." More applause. "And we've had fun." Cheers and whistles. Freddie's drummer accompanied with a clash of cymbals. "Two people have put in an incredible amount of work to see that this evening was a success. Holly Hope and Steele Davis, come on up here." There was a loud drum roll.

  Steele felt Holly twitch under his fingers. He pulled her to her feet and smiled encouragement as she glanced at him. Amidst clapping and cheering they walked to the front to stand by Pastor Don.

  Pastor Don waited for the noise to die down."It began with the vision of one person." Someone handed him a bouquet of red roses and he placed it in Holly's arms. "Holly, thank you for all your hard work. Thank you for caring about the work in Africa and for sharing your concern. I think all of us will now share a bit of your vision."

  Steele's heart swelled with a mixture of pride and wonder and amazement as Holly beamed at the audience. She leaned over to speak into the mike. "Thank you all for coming. Thank you for your generosity but it was Steele who made sure you had chicken and not tofu, who decided the program would be more than a talent show. And wasn't it great?" More cheers and clapping and a drum roll. "Steele deserves the credit for taking care of all sorts of practical things I wouldn't have thought of. The sound system, the stage, even the coffee."

  They might have been the only two people in the room at that moment as she smiled and nodded at him, her eyes dark, brimming over with emotion.

  She'd just admitted she admired his practical side—the part she'd dismissed just a few weeks ago as unromantic—and the way her eyes shone with gr
atitude and acknowledgement, he had to wonder if she realized love was so much more than flowers. He glanced at the orchid on her wrist. He'd noticed how often she admired it during the evening, each time smiling at him in a way that seemed full of promise and he had to admit flowers served a purpose too.

  She pulled a red rose from the bouquet, and tucked it into his lapel. "Thank you, Steele. You've been marvelous." The way she smiled at him made him dream she meant more than his practical help.

  He thanked Holly and the audience. "I expect you were all moved by the plight of these children and by the heroic measures of the people trying to care for them. When Holly and I began to plan this banquet, I'd heard about the many thousands of children being left without adults in their lives. I'm sure you had, too. But Holly made me see it as more than statistics, more than a sad newspaper story. She's been praying this banquet would raise enough money for the roof. But there are so many needs. She made me care so much that I canvassed the downtown businesses and I'm pleased to present her with—" He reached to his inside pocket and pulled out the check. "A check for five thousand dollars thanks to the generosity of the good people of Missoula."

  Tears filled Holly's eyes. She swallowed hard. And in front of Pastor Don and the whole audience, she kissed his cheek. "Thank you," she whispered then turned to the audience. Still whispering, not realizing they couldn't hear her, she said, "Thank you all."

  Steele pulled her to his side. "She says thanks."

  There was more laughter and clapping.

  People began to leave. Pops and Jean found them and congratulated them on a good job before the older pair left. The caterers cleared up. And then they were the only ones there.

  He pulled her into his arms. "Holly, you did it. You raised enough money for the roof and more. You must be happy."

  She touched his cheek. "We did it, Steele. I can't believe you did that on your own." Her brown eyes locked with his, filled with gentleness and something else. She searched his eyes, into the depths of his heart. He waited for her to see him as he was, to remember his practical nature, so different from her own, and pull back. Instead she let her gaze roam over his face like the touch of morning sun. He needed no more invitation and bent to meet her lips, as sweet and accepting as the woman herself.