03_The Doctor's Perfect Match (15 page)

“One day we saw a dozen or more approaching. We called to them to halt. They didn’t. We tried again. Same result. There were only a few of us on that patrol, and we were nervous. The day before some of our buddies had been killed or wounded by enemy soldiers who’d infiltrated a group just like the one we were facing.”

He swallowed. Picked up his coffee. His hand was trembling as he took a sip and set it carefully back on the table.

“As they drew closer, one of them reached inside their coat. I panicked and pulled the trigger. Chaos erupted. More shots were fired. The refugees scattered, what was left of them. Eight were killed by me and my fellow soldiers. After things finally quieted down, we checked them out. Five were women. Two were old men. One was a child. The person I shot was a woman. I thought she’d been reaching inside her coat for a weapon. But when I opened it, I found a baby. Also dead.”

In the silence following Henry’s story, Christopher tried to imagine the stomach-churning horror of that moment.

It was beyond his comprehension.

Nor could he reconcile the frail, tender-hearted older man beside him with the terrified young soldier who’d pulled the trigger that spawned a massacre.

But the deep, gut-wrenching sadness in Henry’s eyes confirmed they were one and the same.

“I never told that story to anyone except Marjorie, Christopher. And I almost didn’t tell it to her. I was ashamed, and I thought she’d reject me if she knew what I’d done. But in the end, I couldn’t in good conscience ask her to marry me without letting her see into my soul, with all its dark places. I had to take that risk. It was the only fair thing to do.”

At last Christopher found his voice. “What did she say?”

The whisper of a smile tugged at Henry’s lips. “I’ll never forget it. She took my hand, looked me in the eye and said, ‘You were young, Henry. And afraid. You were trying to protect yourself in a hostile environment. Yes, you made a tragic mistake. But when I look into your heart I see only kindness and caring and empathy. I know you would never hurt anyone out of malice or anger. Your spirit is too gentle.
That’s why I love you. And that will never change. So make your peace with the Lord. And then let it go. As I intend to.’”

As Henry’s words echoed in the quiet air, Christopher thought about Marjorie’s eloquent declaration of love. She’d looked into Henry’s heart and known that only extraordinary circumstances would have caused him to act in such an uncharacteristic manner.

He hadn’t cut Marci the same slack.

But he should have. She, too, had been young and afraid, ill-equipped and unprepared for the challenge she’d faced. Like Henry, she’d panicked and pulled the trigger—in a figurative sense—cutting short a life. And she’d lived with guilt and regret ever since.

Settling his elbows on the table, he dropped his head into his hands.

“I really blew it, didn’t I?”

“It’s not too late to make things right.”

He shook his head, feeling as bleak as a gray winter day on Nantucket. “It might be.”

“Nope. Marci will give you another chance. That’s the kind of woman she is. Some people go through fire and get burned so badly their scars never heal. Others are forged by fire in a good way. I don’t know what Marci told you. What bad experiences she had or bad decisions she made. But I do know she has a kind and forgiving heart.”

He smiled and leaned close to once more rest his hand on Christopher’s shoulder. “I know one other thing, too. Whether she’s ready to admit it or not, she loves you. And love changes everything.”

For a long moment, Christopher regarded the older man. Then, picking up his mug, he stood. “I think I need to take a little drive into town. Would you like me to help you inside before I leave?”

“No. I’m going to stay here and do some reminiscing. But I want a full report later.”

“Wish me luck.”

“I’ll do that.” Henry lifted his mug in salute. “But you do your part, too. Letting that little lady get away would be foolish. And you’re no fool, my friend.”

Maybe not, Christopher thought as he strode across the lawn toward his cottage. But he’d sure acted like one with Marci. He could only pray she would be as generous and forgiving as Henry expected.

Even if he didn’t deserve it.

“Well, look who’s here!”

At the sound of Edith’s voice, Marci glanced toward the door of the church as her landlords crossed the lawn, aiming for the bench where she sat.

“Hi, Edith. Chester.”

The older man gave her a shy smile and dipped his head.

“What brings you to church today?” Edith asked.

“Just paying a visit. But I was too late for the service, so I thought I’d wait out here until it was over.”

“You could have come in. God doesn’t give out tardy slips.” The older woman chuckled. “But you go right on in now. The place will be cleared out in a matter of minutes. Everyone has holiday plans. See you later.”

Commandeering Chester’s arm, she towed him along toward their car.

Marci waited five more minutes, then slipped inside the empty church, choosing a pew near the back.

For a long while she simply sat there, letting the peaceful ambiance soothe her. She’d experienced this same sense of reassurance on her last visit, too. And it felt good.

After fifteen or twenty minutes, she pulled a piece of
printed material from the rack on the pew in front of her and began paging through it. It was a guide for today’s service, she realized.

All at once, a quote from Ephesians jumped off the page at her.

“I pray that the eyes of your heart may be enlightened, so that you will know what is the hope of His calling.”

How odd. It was as if J.C. or Nathan were talking to her. Both of her brothers were always praying she’d see the light.

The imagery of the passage was nice, too, Marci reflected, reading it a second time.
The eyes of your heart.
How apt. For the heart did see. Often more clearly than the eye. She also liked the reference to finding hope in the call of the Lord. That had happened with Nathan last year. Once he’d heard the Lord’s call, his life had been transformed.

Maybe it was her turn now. Better late than never, right? After all, Edith had just told her the Lord didn’t give out tardy slips.

Marci took a deep breath. What could it hurt to try? Worst case, He would reject her. And she was used to that.

Feeling a little awkward, she bowed her head and closed her eyes.

Okay, Lord, here I am. In Your house. You don’t know me very well, but my brothers are friends of Yours. You’ve probably heard them mention my name a few hundred times. Sorry about that. They can be annoyingly persistent.

Anyway, here’s the thing. There’s this guy I like. Christopher Morgan. I talked to You once before about him. He likes me. Or he did. Until I told him about all the mistakes I’ve made.

I’m sorry about those, Lord. Sorrier than I can say. If I had a chance to relive all those bad years, I’d make different decisions. But I can’t. All I can do is lay them in front of You and ask Your forgiveness. J.C. is always telling me how kind and merciful You are. How You’re willing to give people a second
chance, and how You value people for what’s inside their hearts, not for the clothes they wear or the money they have. I wish more humans were like You.

So if You’re really like that, You know my remorse is sincere. And You know I’ve tried very hard in the past seven years to live a good life. To be a good person. Maybe You can help me be even better. I’m willing to work with you on this, Lord. I want to be good enough to be loved by someone who’s kind and caring and decent and generous. Someone like Christopher.

If you could show me how to…

“Marci?”

So focused was she on her thoughts that it took a couple of seconds for the resonant baritone voice beside her to register. When it did, her eyes flew open.

Christopher stood in the aisle, dressed in khaki slacks and an open-necked blue shirt that matched his eyes. But he wasn’t his usual put-together self. He’d missed one of his buttons, his hair was damp and a bit tousled from a very recent shower and he’d nicked his chin shaving.

Nevertheless, he looked fabulous to her.

“May I join you?” He motioned toward the pew.

She slid over, noting the smudges beneath his lower lashes and the lines of strain around his mouth. Apparently he hadn’t slept any better than she had.

“What are you doing here?” She clenched her hands in her lap and gave him a wary look.

“Looking for you. I stopped by the cottage, and Edith told me where you were. Good thing I ran into her. I would never have thought to check here.”

A mirthless smile twisted her lips. “Yeah. Marci Clay in a church. Imagine that. I’m surprised God hasn’t tossed me out on my ear.”

He frowned. “That’s not what I meant.”

“Maybe not. But it’s true.”

“God welcomes everyone, Marci. Even people who make mistakes. Like me.”

She shot him a skeptical glance. “You haven’t made any mistakes that I’ve noticed.”

“I made a big one last night when I let you walk away.”

Her heart did a little quickstep, but she ruthlessly smothered the tiny ember of hope that ignited. She’d indulged in romantic fantasies about Christopher once; she wouldn’t set herself up like that again.

“You did the right thing. You deserve better than me.”

“Marci.” He angled toward her, and when he took her hands the touch of his strong, lean fingers set her pulse racing. “Give yourself more credit than that. You’re a very special woman. You’re smart and caring and funny and strong and kind. You have a generous, loving heart. And you’ve added an incredible spark to my life.” His eyes grew soft, and she could read the apology in their depths. “I should have said all that last night, and I’m sorry I didn’t. My only excuse is that you walked away before I could process everything you told me.”

She tried to think, but the warmth of his fingers was short-circuiting her brain. “I did dump a lot on you.”

“Maybe. But I’ve had all night to think about it. And here’s where I stand. I know our relationship is new, and I’m not suggesting we rush this. What I’d like you to do is stay and take the director job with Caring Connections. Give me a chance to court you properly. Then let’s put the rest in God’s hands and see where He leads us. What do you say?”

As Marci gazed into his warm blue eyes, her lungs stopped working. Was it possible that all she’d hoped and prayed for had been granted? It seemed too good to be true.

“Why, Christopher?” She searched his eyes. “Why do you want me, after all the mistakes I made?”

“No one is exempt from making mistakes, Marci. And making them doesn’t mean we’re bad people. It just means we used bad judgment. All we can do is learn from them, move on and try to do better. That’s what God asks of us. And that’s what you did. How can I expect anything more?” He stroked his thumb along the back of her hand, creating a trail of warmth. “As Henry reminded me this morning, I’d be a fool to let you go. I agree. So please…say you’ll stay.”

At his husky request, Marci felt the pressure of tears in her throat. Listening to her heart at last, she took the leap. “Okay.” The word came out in a croak.

Relief smoothed the tension from Christopher’s face, and he stood, tugging her to her feet. “Come with me.”

“Where are we going?” She followed as he led her down the aisle and out the front door, into the dazzling sun of a glorious Nantucket morning.

Guiding her to the side of the porch, behind the privacy of a tall hydrangea bush laden with blossoms, he pulled her into his arms. “To seal our bargain.”

Before she could respond, he gave her a kiss that communicated more eloquently than words the joy and love that was in his heart.

When at last he released her, settling his hands at her waist while she clung to his neck, he grinned. “What are your plans for the rest of the day?”

“I don’t have any.”

“You do now. Ending with fireworks.”

Marci smiled and traced his lips with a whisper stroke of her finger. “I just had my fireworks.”

At her touch, his eyes darkened. “How about an encore?”

Bending down once more, his mouth settled over hers in a kiss that spoke of promises and hope and a new tomorrow. Never had Marci felt so cherished.

For Christopher’s love hadn’t simply filled her world with joy. It had also liberated her from the shadows of her past.

It was a gift she would treasure every day of her life.

Just as she would treasure the special man who’d given her an Independence Day to remember.

Five Months Later

A
s Marci drove toward ’Sconset in the deepening dusk, a contented smile curved her lips. It was hard to believe how fairy-tale-like her life had become in the past few months. She felt like Cinderella. Except the ball hadn’t ended at midnight.

Caring Connections was up and running, and public reception and support had been phenomenal.

Her job as director gave her everything she’d ever hoped to find in a career—satisfaction, joy and the contentment of knowing she was doing meaningful work that made a difference in people’s lives.

J.C. and Heather were close by, and in five months Nathan would join them to complete their original little circle.

She’d made new friends like Edith and Chester and Henry—whom she was visiting today.

Her journey to the Lord was progressing well, imbuing her days with a new sense of purpose and hope.

And then there was Christopher.

As large, lazy flakes of snow began to fall, adding a pristine topping to the already white world, her smile broadened.

Month by month, their relationship had deepened and flourished. If ever she’d harbored doubts about their ability to reconcile their different backgrounds, they’d vanished. Christopher had made it clear in every word and every action that he valued her for who she was. All her old baggage had been relegated to the basement—where it belonged.

After making the turn onto Henry’s lane, Marci eased the car to a stop in front of his cottage. Warm light shone from the windows, and a cranberry wreath hung on the door. Through the front window she could see the tree she and Christopher had helped him decorate last weekend in anticipation of the holiday. Although Patricia had invited him to spend Christmas in Boston, he’d chosen to stay in his snug cottage and celebrate the day at The Devon Rose with Marci’s family, joined by Christopher and Edith and Chester.

Stepping out of the car, Marci rounded the hood, the snow crunching under her boots. It wasn’t windy, but the air was cold and she was glad she’d wrapped a scarf around her neck and worn gloves and earmuffs.

As she approached the front door, she spied a note taped to the front.

“Knob’s being cranky. Come around back.”

Odd. The knob had seemed okay two days ago.

Switching direction, Marci headed for the gate that led to the backyard. Good thing there was a retired carpenter in ’Sconset on her Caring Connections resource list. She made a mental note to send him over tomorrow to check it out.

As she covered the short distance to the arbor, she noted that someone had shoveled a narrow path. Hopefully not Henry. He’d been doing great; the last thing he needed was another fall.

Pushing through the gate, she blinked a snowflake off her eyelash and lifted her face to the heavens. A few stars were beginning to twinkle in the distance where the sky was clearing, while above her lazy flakes continued to sift down from the indigo expanse.

It was lovely. And peaceful. Only the muted sound of the surf broke the stillness.

That is, until the hushed strains of “I’ll Be Home For Christmas” suddenly drifted through the quiet air from the back of Henry’s cottage.

Curious, she continued toward the rear. But as she rounded the corner, she came to an abrupt halt.

For the scene before her was pure magic.

Outlined with glowing white twinkle lights and bedecked with boughs of greenery and large red bows, Henry’s gazebo had been transformed into an enchanting winter wonderland.

And waiting for her inside was the man of her dreams. Dressed in jeans and a fleece-lined suede coat, he gave her a smile that warmed her to her core despite the frosty air.

Moving forward, she stopped at the edge of the structure. “Hi.”

“Hi.” The appealing, husky tenor of his voice sent her pulse tripping into double time.

“Did you do this?” She gestured around the gazebo.

“I did the work. Henry supervised.”

“Why?”

He extended his hand, and when she took it, he tugged her up beside him. “Because this gazebo represents love. And I couldn’t think of a more appropriate place to propose.”

She stared at him. For weeks she’d known they were headed in this direction. But she hadn’t expected it to happen this soon.

Before she could gather her thoughts, Christopher cradled
both her hands in his. “I know we said we’d take things slowly. But we’ve known each other seven months now. And I’ve never been more sure about anything. I want to spend the rest of my life with you, Marci. If you prefer to wait a while to get married, I can live with that—as long as I have a date to look forward to.”

Backing up a step, he urged her into a chair that looked a lot like the ones around Henry’s kitchen table. Then he dropped to one knee in front of her and took her hand in his. The love shining in his eyes tightened her throat, and she blinked to clear the mist from her vision.

“Marci Clay, I love you with all my heart, and I promise you I always will. For better or worse, in good times and bad. Just like these Christmas lights have illuminated Henry’s gazebo, you add light to my life every day of the year. Will you do me the honor of becoming my wife?”

Joy overflowed in Marci’s heart, and with a hand that wasn’t quite steady, she touched his face in wonder. If she lived to be a hundred, she would never forget this moment, when he’d offered her the greatest blessing she could ever hope to receive—the gift of his love forever.

“Yes.” Her response came out in a whispered cloud of frosty breath.

He smiled, closed his eyes, and let out a long, relieved sigh. “Thank You, Lord.”

“You didn’t think I’d say no, did you?”

“A man never knows for sure until he hears the word.” Standing, he pulled her to her feet, his expression jubilant. “What do you say we warm up our lips?”

She gave him an impish grin. “Were you thinking about having some hot chocolate?”

“Maybe later. I had a faster method in mind.” Pulling her into the circle of his arms, he shot a quick glance over her
shoulder toward Henry’s cottage and smiled down at her. “I have to warn you. We probably have an audience.”

“I don’t mind if you don’t. Henry had a lot to do with bringing about this happy ending.”

“True. Plus, he has a vested interest in the outcome.”

“How so?”

“He and I had a long talk while we decorated the gazebo. He said his cottage is getting too big for him, and he offered to sell it to me—or, I should say, to us—and move next door to the guest cottage. With one caveat. We have to give him unlimited access to the garden and gazebo. What do you think?”

She smiled. “I think it’s perfect.”

“Then how about we set his mind at ease?”

She wrapped her arms around his neck and tugged him close, until their faces were only a whisper apart. “Let’s.”

Bending down, he sealed their engagement in the most traditional of ways as the melodic words of the carol drifted through the night air.

I’ll be home for Christmas, if only in my dreams.

And as she lost herself in the magic of his kiss, Marci gave thanks. For here, in Christopher’s arms, her dreams had come true.

She was home.

For always.