And the Greatest of These Is Love: A Contemporary Christian Romance Novel (2 page)

She sat there trying to wrap her mind around the sum of $75,000. It was more money than she’d ever even contemplated.

“What can I do?” she finally asked, knowing there must be something but not seeing it through the numbers swirling before her.

“Well, right now I’m going through these grant applications as fast as I can, but they take forever, and I don’t think I can do them all.”

“Give me half.” She put her hand out.

He never moved. “Gabi, really they take...”

“Give me half.” She stood to her full 5-foot, 4-inches in front of him. “These kids need us, and I’m not going to let them down.”

“Andrew, thank God you’re here.” Perfectly coifed and manicured, Pam opened the door. “Greg’s ready, and I’m late.”

He followed her into the living room which was filled with expensive furniture, lamps, and vases. How there could be so much white in one room, he had no idea.

“Uncle Drew!” Greg yelled, tearing into the room, barely missing the end table on his way to his uncle.

“Greg!” Andrew bent to one knee and caught the boy in a bear hug.

“Gregory Paul!” Pam said as if he’d just broken a priceless heirloom. “You know the rules about running in this house.”

The smile fell from the child’s face, and his head dropped with it. “Sorry, Mom.”

“I don’t know when you’ll learn,” she continued to fume as she gathered her things. “I don’t know why we can’t keep nice things around here without you perpetually trying to destroy everything.”

“I’m sorry, Mom,” Greg repeated, his shoulders sagging.

“Hey, Pam.” Andrew stood, hoping to be helpful. “No harm. He didn’t hit anything.”

“This time,” she said still gathering her things. She never even bothered to look at him. “His game’s at eleven, so you’d better hurry. Bryan should be back about five. Andrew, we really appreciate this. I’ll see you later, Greg. Be good for Uncle Andrew, you hear me?”

“Yes, Ma’am,” Greg said as she planted a hurried kiss on his forehead. And then she was gone.

Andrew put his hand on Greg’s shoulder. “Well, I guess it’s off to the park.”

“Yeah,” Greg said, trying his best to smile. “I guess so.”

Gabi walked to her car quickly — avoiding all the eyes that glanced in her direction. The stack of papers under her arm burned into her skin. The grants. They were the center’s last hope. Even they might not be enough, but she was going to do everything in her power to keep the center opened as long as possible.

She got into her car, and the weight of her undertaking descended on her shoulders like a rock. Her fingers gripped the steering wheel in front of her, and her knuckles turned white without her realizing it. How could years of work, years of sacrifice by all the volunteers and all the benefactors go down the drain just like that? More importantly how could the people at Giovanni turn their backs on the kids? Kids who needed them desperately — more desperately than even they, themselves knew. But she knew. She knew all too well what the center meant to these kids, and now it was up to her.

It wasn’t until they actually got to the park that Andrew realized how overdressed he was. Putting on a suit first thing out of the shower had become second nature to him in the past few years, and now he did it without even thinking about where he was going. Quickly he shrugged out of the jacket. Wearing a suit and tie to the park on a Saturday? He should just wear a big sign that said,
Workaholic
.

“Come on, Uncle Drew!” Greg called, bouncing outside the window of the door he’d already exited. “We’re gonna be late!”

“I’m coming, Greg. Just had to make a little adjustment.” He stepped out of the red sports car into the cool, crisp air and took a deep, solid breath. It felt better than he remembered. A little smog, but better than the stale cigarette-pizza combo he was used to at The Herald.

“Let’s go!”

Gabi drove slowly through the streets — trying to get an emotional handle on this situation. She knew she should go home and get to work, but somehow for the moment, she needed to pretend this whole situation didn’t exist — that the kids would be fine and that the whole world made sense. Just for a moment.

She glanced out the window, and she saw them. The kids. Playing in the park — with their mommies and daddies. Having fun. Not worried about where their next meal would come from or who might be around the next corner. Just being what they were here to be — kids.

It didn’t take much of an eye to tell that Greg had talent on the soccer field. Just watching him from the park bench, Andrew could tell how much his nephew loved this game. It reminded him of another little boy he had known a very long time ago. A little boy not unlike Greg, who loved sports and excelled at them. It seemed like forever ago. Forever. Before the paper, and deadlines, and suits, and laptops…

If asked, Gabi would’ve said stopping the car was out of the question, but somehow it stopped itself, and suddenly she found herself walking through the park, sketchbook and pencils in hand. Surely she had time for one little escape. Thirty minutes, an hour, and then she would get to work.

Shouts of joy and laughter bombarded her from every direction, but somehow they sounded foreign to her ears, and the sights seemed foreign to her eyes as well. Even as she walked among them, she didn’t feel like a part of their world — a world of love, of peace, of joy. Days like today she got a glimpse of their world, but it was only that, a glimpse from afar.

A force other than her own will pulled her to the group of small boys playing soccer in a clearing surrounded by some trees, and she sat down slowly beside one of the oaks and watched them. The blue shirts were mingled with the red shirts, and little heads with a palette of different hair colors bobbed up and down.

He would be just about their age, she thought, turning inward on herself. He would be running around, playing soccer. She wandered again what color his hair was, was his hair dark like hers, or…?

The second the raven-haired beauty walked past him, Andrew’s gaze homed to her. It looked like a small wind might blow her away, but she was beautiful. Sunning even. Willowy and graceful, she floated rather than walked. He watched her as she crossed to the end of the clearing and sat next to a tree. Suddenly, he wished he had Bryan’s wit and adventure. If he did, he could just walk right up to her, say something fabulous, and sweep her off her feet.

But Andrew had never been the outgoing one. He was more comfortable, hanging back, doing the work, and staying as far away from the limelight as possible. Only in recent months had he become comfortable with the thought of being recognized for his work. In the beginning, his love of anonymity had been a big reason why he’d chosen the newspaper business. People saw your by-line, they didn’t see you.

However, right now he wished with everything he had that she would see him. See him, come over, and introduce herself. It was obvious, however, that she could only see the boys on the soccer field because her gaze never so much as unlocked from them.

This was a bad idea, Gabi told herself trying to tear her eyes from the field. For one thing this wasn’t helping her mood, and for another, she really, really needed to be getting some work done. But the field held her there, and she finally gave into it. She pulled her sketchbook out and let the images before her flow onto the paper.

Andrew watched her, doing everything he could think of to look like he wasn’t. She seemed to be writing, but she wasn’t even looking at the paper — so she couldn’t really be writing. No, she wasn’t writing, she was… drawing... something. She looked so unbelievable — like a butterfly perched on the ground ready to flit away at any time.

“I should go over there right now,” he told himself as he watched her. “Right now before she leaves. Andrew, you write for The Herald, you’ve interviewed senators and governors. This shouldn’t be that a big a deal. Just go over there and say hello. ‘Hi. I’m Andrew Clark, and you’re amazing.’ What would the harm be in that?”

But his body didn’t move. His mind did. It got up, walked over to her, said hello, and asked her out — no problem. But his body didn’t follow. It just sat there on the bench like an idiot.

“That was so cool!” Greg breathed, suddenly huffing and puffing right up next to him.

“Cool?” Andrew asked, waking from his daydream and reluctantly turning his attention to his nephew. “Oh, yeah. Real cool. Awesome.”

It seemed strange to Gabi that only a handful of parents were there with their kids on such a nice day. It made her glad that the little brown-headed kid she’d been sketching had his dad there to watch. All kids needed that.

“We beat ‘em!  We actually beat the Spiders!  I can’t believe it,” Greg said, the excitement bubbling over. “They’re the best team in the league, you know.”

“No, I didn’t know that,” Andrew said, amused at the excitement of his nephew.

“Yeah, and we beat ‘em!” Greg pushed out his chest, and Andrew had to keep himself from laughing at the kid’s bravado. He was certainly his father’s son.

“You sure did,” he said, and then he looked over Greg’s head. The butterfly had flown.

$75,000. $75,000. Where were they going to get $75,000? Gabi picked up another grant application from the table. It was a ten-page monstrosity, and even if they got it, it wouldn’t be enough to carry the center past Thanksgiving.

But, she decided, she had to start somewhere, and here was as good a place as any.

After hamburgers, ice cream, and a short trip to the candy store, Andrew’s stomach was revolting. It was becoming painfully clear to him that he wasn’t as young as he used to be, and his stomach wasn’t either.

“You know,” Greg said, philosophically as they strolled back to the car, sugary treats in hand. “Today was nice.”

“Yes, it was,” Andrew agreed, wistfulness taking hold of his spirit.

“I mean. It was fun to have someone from my own family there to watch me play.”

“What does that mean?” Andrew asked in instant confusion.

“Oh, I don’t know.” Greg shrugged, the little shoulders bouncing up and then sagging. “I like Mrs. Sanders and all, but it isn’t the same.”

“Mrs. Sanders? Your babysitter?”

Greg scowled. “Nanny. I’m not a baby.”

“Oh, yes of course. Your nanny. She usually takes you to soccer?”

“Usually always.”

Andrew tipped his head, trying to get a better look at the child. “Your dad doesn’t take you sometimes?”

“No, he’s too busy. He’s got clients, you know. They’re very important,” Greg said gravely, sounding just like the speeches he had obviously heard.

That bothered Andrew, and he fought to find the silver lining that had to be somewhere behind this cloud. “What about your mom?”

Greg laughed as if the thought was absurd. “Mom and soccer? I don’t think so. She’d be worried about the goal getting broken.”

“So, Mrs. Sanders takes you then?”

“Yeah mostly, but today was really nice.”

“Yeah.” Andrew had to agree. “Today was really nice.”

Gabi’s eyes were beginning to hurt, and she wasn’t exactly sure if it was from the dim light or the ten ton rock on her shoulders. A sigh escaped before she could stop it. This was like climbing up the down escalator. Totally hopeless, but still you had to try — if for no other reason than to prove it couldn’t be done.

She got up from the couch and filled her glass with water from the jug in the refrigerator. Only then did she glance at the clock — 11:30. No wonder she was hungry. It was hours past supper. In fact it was hours past bedtime, and her body was beginning to register that fact. A quick sandwich and she would have to call it a night. She could get an early start tomorrow, and maybe by the grace of God, they would find a miracle.

He could see her sitting there, looking at him softly, just out of his reach. His heart called to hers, willing her to come to him, but she just floated up and away, and she was gone.

“No, don’t go!” Andrew gasped, sitting straight up in bed. But there was no butterfly, only darkness. And he knew she was gone — forever.

Her body woke Gabi well before the sun came up. It was a habit born of too many early mornings rushing to beat the traffic and the parents, and even on days when she could sleep in, sleep after 5:30 was an impossibility. She reluctantly rolled out of bed into the coolness of the air around her. Heat was a luxury she used only in the direst of circumstances. Money was too precious to be wasted on trivial things like comfort.

Money. $75,000. The memory ripped through her, and she fought the urge to crawl back into the warm, welcoming blankets. The rock took up its former residence, and her head suddenly ached for relief, but there would be no relief. This rock was now hers to carry.

She stumbled out of bed and back to the little coffee table where she turned on the lamp next to it. There had to be a way. There just had to.

By 10:30 a.m. the sun was up, and Gabi was exhausted. Not even dealing with 20 screaming four-year-olds was this much work. She needed a break, and she knew exactly where to take one. The short walk would do her good, and maybe if she was lucky, she just might find her miracle there.

“Umm, Father Callihan, I was hoping you might have some time to talk,” Gabi said as she extended her hand upon exiting the service.

“Why, Gabriella, it’s nice to see you,” Father Callihan said, shaking her hand warmly.

“Do you have a minute?” she asked, not letting go until she got a yes.

He tipped his head in a slight bout with confusion. “Well, the next Mass starts in about an hour.”

“Oh, this won’t take long.”

Finally he smiled at her. “Well, certainly, why don’t you come with me?”

Gabi followed him down the narrow hallway into the main office, praying like she never had before. This was not for her. It was for the kids. Surely God could understand how important this was for them.

“Now, what can I do for you?” Father Callihan asked, sitting in the executive’s chair across the desk from her.

“Well, it’s not really about me, Father. It’s about my kids… at the center.”

“Ah, yes the center, a fine institution.”

“Yes, well, we’ve run into some financial trouble recently, and I was kind of hoping...”

At that, Father Callihan’s face fell, and suddenly he could no longer look her in the eye. “Times are tough on everyone around here, Gabriella. Believe me, I’d really like to help you out, but I don’t know what I can do.”

“Could you lend us some money? We’ll pay you back, I promise,” she said, grasping for something to stop the descent into hopelessness, but she wondered even as she said it how they would ever get the money to pay the church back.

He smiled again. This time it had pity attached to it. “Gabriella, you’re a wonderful person. And I know how much you love those kids, but right now, we aren’t in a position to be able to help anyone else out financially. I hope you understand.”

She sat there without knowing what to say or how to say it. She could feel her miracle slipping through her fingers. “Are you sure, Father?”

“Believe me, we would help if we could.”

The church’s chapel called to her as she walked by it, and knowing no other option, Gabi pushed the door open slowly. The space was empty with only a dim light on the seats and a bright one on the tabernacle. She made her way down the aisle to the front row and knelt down. Tears sprang into her eyes, and she brushed them away.

“Hi, God, it’s me, Gabriella Treyvillion.” The sniff was soft but audible. “It’s been awhile, I know. I’m sorry about that, but, listen, God, right now I could really use Your help. See, there’s this center for kids — where I work, and well, we’re kind of in some trouble — money wise, you know? Now, normally I wouldn’t come to you about money problems, but this one’s important. See, there’re a lot of kids who rely on that center, and if we close, well, the truth is, I’m afraid of what’s going to happen to them. I’m willing to do whatever I need to, if You’ll just show me what that is.”

She paused and looked up, waiting for an answer that did not come. “Okay, God.” The sigh slid through her as frustration took its place. “Look, I know I’m probably the last person You want to help right now, but believe me, I’m not asking for me. These kids really need a miracle, and they need it fast. All I ask is that You point me in the right direction. Please. Just point me in the right direction.”

When she walked out, Gabi wasn’t sure what she’d expected. But whatever it was, it didn’t happen. The sad and unavoidable truth was, she was alone in this fight. Not even God wanted to help her. She took a deep breath and went home to face the applications totally alone.

He’d tried. All day long, Andrew had tried to get her out of his head, but she was still there. Every time he turned around, she was there, looking at him with those soft dark eyes. And then she was gone. It was like playing tag with a ghost — one minute they’re there, the next minute... poof!

By nightfall, Gabi had finished three grant applications and was halfway through the fourth one. It was a very good thing that writing was one of her strong suits, she thought as she began the essay on the fourth one. These kids deserved a chance. They needed this place. And now somehow she had to convince someone she would never even meet of that fact in 1,000 words or less.

“Andrew? What’re you doing here?” Bryan asked when he found his younger brother standing on the front porch.

“I don’t know.” Andrew shrugged. “Just a little bored, I guess. If this is a bad time,…”

“No, of course not.” Bryan stuck out his hand to shake Andrew’s. “Come on in. You know you’re always welcome.”

“Well, Andrew.” In her naturally regal style, Pam came down the staircase. “This is a surprise.”

“Hi, Pam. I was just driving around, and I guess I ended up here. I hope you don’t mind.”

She smiled, revealing two perfect rows of white. “No, of course not, come on in. Have you eaten?”

The more seconds that ticked by, the more out-of-place Andrew felt. “Oh, yeah. I just thought I’d drop by and say hi to Greg — congratulate him on the game again.”

“Oh, the game,” Bryan said as they went over and sat in the living room. “Thanks again for taking him.”

Andrew sat, shifted, and nodded. “No problem. We really had a good time.”

“Well, Greg certainly seemed to enjoy it,” Bryan said, settling down an oversized chair that could have doubled for a loveseat. “That’s all he could talk about tonight at dinner.”

That brought up a questioning thought. “Where is Greg anyway?”

“Upstairs getting ready for bed. He’s a handful. Way too much energy. Pam has a time getting him into the tub, so when he’s there, you don’t bother him.”

“I see,” Andrew said, wishing he could say what his mind had been telling him since the day before. He should tell his brother what Greg had said about wanting him to be there, but how? Unfortunately, he couldn’t find the right words for that question, so he asked another. “So, how’s work?”

“Ah. Same old, same old.” His brother leaned back and crossed his arms over the pinstripes on his pressed shirt. “How’s the news business?”

“It’s business,” Andrew said, feeling the gap that was always there form between them once again. Bryan, the older brother. Confident. Poised. Out-spoken. Perpetually out-shining his younger, less assured brother.

Worse, Andrew wasn’t sure when it had happened, but Bryan had changed since their years growing up in the same room together. And to be fair, so had Andrew. They were more casual acquaintances now than brothers — and not even very close acquaintances at that.

“Drew!” a very wet, very clean Greg called, racing down the stairs.

“Greg!” Andrew turned and then stood to accept the high-five and then the quick hug. “Hey, my-man. How’s it going?”

His nephew’s eyes lit up like a mega-watt bulb. “Great!  Want to see my train set?”

“Oh, Greg, Uncle Andrew doesn’t want to see your trains,” Bryan said with instant annoyance.

“Well, actually,” Andrew said, finding just a bit of courage, “I think I’d love to see your trains.”

Greg practically leaped in the air. “Really?”

“Absolutely.”

With that, he grabbed Andrew’s hand, and before long they were running the trains around the enormous track set up all across Greg’s room and having the time of their lives.

The fourth application was finished, but the other six stared at her from the coffee table. There was no way she’d be able to start them all — even if she worked all night. It was hopeless, and there was nothing more she could do about it now. Besides, she was exhausted and depressed, and at the moment the only thing she could think of was going to bed, crawling under the covers, and hoping life would leave her alone.