A Love So Strong
“Where do you live exactly?”
“Dalworthington Gardens.”
“We’re practically neighbors then. I’m at First Church in Pantego.”
“I know that church,” Nicole said, surprising and pleasing him. “I pass it on my way to school. I like the way it looks, sort of homey and old-fashioned, almost like its own little town.”
Marcus felt his grin stretch to ridiculous proportions. Something odd shimmered through him, something he couldn’t quite identify that snatched at his breath. He cleared his throat and said, “That’s exactly the impression we were going for, a community of believers with the church at its center.”
“But don’t be fooled by the exterior,” Ovida advised Nicole. “It’s a powerful little church, a real asset to the city, and pretty cutting-edge when it comes to technology and worship.”
“We do try,” Marcus conceded. “It’s been an exciting pastorate so far.”
“You ought to visit, Nicole,” Ovida urged. “You and Beau might like it there.”
Nicole looked at Marcus, her warm brown eyes measuring him. “We might,” she said, and then she dropped her gaze pointedly.
Marcus felt a jolt. That hadn’t been personal interest he’d seen in her eyes, surely? No, of course not. To her, he must seem like the next thing to an old man, which, comparably speaking, he was. That seemed a particularly dismal thought.
As talk became more chatter than confession and hand-wringing, Marcus made himself sit silently, a mere observer now that the emotional crisis had passed. It was what he did, part of his calling. He was good at stepping up to the plate when called upon to bat and equally good at retiring once he’d taken his swing. He couldn’t help wondering why this time it was proving so difficult.
Perhaps he should rejoin the party in the other room. He, after all, was the guest of honor. Yes, he should definitely excuse himself. Yet, he sat right there, listening as Ovida and Nicole talked of events in which he’d had no part and people whom he didn’t know.
For some reason he couldn’t tear himself away. Yet, this time, observation felt strangely like being on the outside looking in.
Was he suddenly so old, Marcus wondered, that he’d lost touch already with such fresh-faced youth as this? If so, then surely it was past time for God to bring him a wife.
That wasn’t too much for a man to ask on his thirtieth birthday, was it? Then again, hadn’t he just told God that he’d be happy with those blessings already granted him?
He stared at Nicole’s pretty profile, observing the animation with which she spoke, and knew that if his interest could be elicited by this mere girl, then he was in big trouble. Not only was she too young for him, she was entirely unsuitable.
A minister’s wife did not dress in such eccentric fashion. She didn’t bounce around in her seat and gesture broadly as if physically incapable of sitting still. And she sure wouldn’t slide alarmingly coy looks across a table at a man she’d just met.
It struck him then how laughingly desperate he had become.
Nicole was little more than a child, whose life was, nevertheless, chock-full of stress and responsibility. At her age she probably batted her eyelashes at every male in the immediate vicinity without even knowing that she was doing it.
And he was a thirty-year-old fool who obviously needed to remember that his priority in life was his ministry. That ministry included helping emotionally beleaguered young ladies find the faith to make difficult decisions. If the opportunity arose, that was precisely what he would do for Miss Nicole Archer.
He had the unsettling feeling that such an opportunity would, indeed, arise and no understanding at all why that should alarm him.
Chapter Two
Nicole allowed both Marcus Wheeler and Ovida Cutler to escort her to the door, even though she knew it was an imposition for him. This was his birthday, after all, and the party had been going on without him for some time already. Still, she couldn’t resist. He was so…calm. Serene, even. And gorgeous—in a very buttoned-down and conservative way, which, oddly enough, she didn’t mind at all.
Once in the spacious entry hall, Nicole took some time to look around her, stalling the moment when she must actually leave. Western chic wasn’t her thing, but the sheer proportions of the place were impressive, and she liked the colors and the rustic light fixture overhead.
She’d barely noticed her surroundings when she’d arrived. Her pain and desperation had blinded her to everything except the need to find a little reassurance, some measure of comfort. At times like that she missed her mother so much that she literally hurt. That was when she reached out to Ovida.
Lately, her father’s drinking had escalated and she’d been reaching out more and more. Surely things would calm down soon, though. Her father seemed to cycle in and out of these ongoing rages.
He’d be surly and withdrawn for a while, then gradually would grow more belligerent until he began exploding over the smallest things. Finally he’d rage for hours, saying cruel, hurtful things to her and her brother. Eventually he’d drink himself into oblivion. Misery and apologies would follow the hangover. Then the cycle would begin again.
She hoped they were at the end of that ugly cycle now, but even if they weren’t she still couldn’t bring herself to follow the pastor’s advice to call the police or even Family Services. She couldn’t bear the thought of her father in detox or jail or her brother in foster care. Such a thing would have been inconceivable while her mother lived. Every time Nicole thought of calling the police, she’d picture her mother’s face, see the sadness, disappointment and anguish in her eyes, and she couldn’t do it.
No, she just couldn’t see herself following the good minister’s advice. That didn’t mean, however, that Nicole wasn’t glad to have met Marcus Wheeler. Far from it. Looking up now into his warm, moss-green eyes she felt safe, reassured, and not a little thrilled.
Who knew that ministers were this good-looking? Not to mention young.
Okay, he was a little older than the college crowd, but thirty wasn’t exactly over the hill. Besides, she didn’t fit in with that group all that well herself. She didn’t fit in anywhere, truth be told. In some ways she felt aeons older than her friends. In others she felt like a complete innocent. They were into partying and carefree escapades. She was into her family and fulfilling her responsibilities.
For Nicole, it was all about making a future for herself and her little brother. She didn’t have time for parties and dates. She’d be tempted to make an exception for someone like Marcus, though. All antique gold and polished bronze, Marcus was not only handsome, he radiated strength, gentle confidence and genuine concern. Surely such a man would be a good influence on her little brother.
At first, mortified to have broken in on a family gathering, Nicole was now glad that she had come here today. She’d found what she needed: the strength to go home again and put up with whatever awaited her there a little longer. On the way, she’d swing by the library and pick up Beau. Meanwhile, she owed this man, if only for his kindness.
“I’m sorry about interrupting your birthday party.”
He shook his head, smiling as laughter spilled out of the living room. “Doesn’t sound to me like you put a crimp in anything.”
“Still, it was good of you to take time away from your guests to talk to me.”
“It was my pleasure. I’ll be praying for you.”
“Thank you.”
“We’ll both be praying for you, honey,” Ovida broke in, hugging her. “Think about what the pastor said, will you?”
Nicole nodded. She’d think about it, but she knew that she wouldn’t call the authorities.
“I’d better go,” she said reluctantly. “The library closes at nine.”
“Hug that brother of yours for me,” Ovida instructed.
“I will.”
“And don’t hesitate to reach out again if you need me.”
“But if you should need another ally,” Marcus interjected smoothly, reaching into his shirt pocket and producing a small card, “I can usually be reached at one of these numbers.”
Ridiculously pleased, Nicole took the card and slipped it into her glove. She would definitely be calling on the young minister, just as soon as she could come up with a valid reason. With one last squeeze of Ovida’s hand and a warm smile for Marcus Wheeler, Nicole slipped through the door that he opened for her.
He stepped outside onto the low front stoop and watched from beneath the tall brick arch until she was safely inside her old car. In his shirtsleeves against the frosty February temperatures, he continued to stand there while she cranked and cranked the starter on her rattletrap vehicle. Then, once the engine finally turned over, he lifted a hand in farewell before rejoining the party inside. It seemed a very gentlemanly thing to do.
Nicole smiled to herself as she drove off into the night, feeling the edges of his card against the back of her hand, where it nestled inside her glove.
Their paths would cross again.
Connie stirred honey into her herbal tea, tapped the spoon on the rim of the cup and laid it aside before slipping her forefinger into the dainty hole formed by the handle and lifting the hot, fragrant brew to her lips.
“So, find out any interesting tidbits about our unexpected guest at the birthday party the other night?” Jolie asked, lifting her straight, thick, biscuit-brown hair so she could lean back in her kitchen chair without trapping it.
Connie blew on her tea, then shook her bright gold hair. They’d both been curious about Nicole Archer. Something about that girl made a person sit up and take notice, something besides the wardrobe, which was even odder than those of the young women one saw on the streets these days.
“You know Marcus and his ministerial ethics,” Connie said. “All I could get out of him is that her mother and your mother-in-law were friends.”
“Were is the operative word,” Jolie divulged, absently rubbing her swollen belly. “Mrs. Archer died over three years ago. Cancer. Ovida was her Sunday School teacher at one time, and the two stayed close over the years. Now Ovida’s become sort of a surrogate mother for Nicole. Supposedly, Nicole’s father drinks a lot.”
Connie sipped from her cup and set it down again.
“I guess mothers-in-law don’t have the same ethical concerns as ministers.”
Jolie chuckled. Conversation turned to their plans for the upcoming weekend. Vince and Jolie planned to shop for the baby’s room. Connie and Kendal were taking their children to a popular pizza arcade for the birthday celebration of one of their young friends.
“We may not stay long,” Connie said. “It depends on how well Larissa does in that environment.”
Little Larissa still suffered the occasional meltdown when overstimulated, but her conduct had improved by leaps and bounds in the ten months since Connie and sweet, placid Russell had come into her life. Still, Connie and Kendal were careful to monitor her environment and coach her behavior. They made a good team and, Jolie had to admit, were excellent parents.
Jolie no longer grieved or resented the removal of her nephew from her care. The way she looked at it, everything was as it should be. As God had wanted it to be. She could be Russell’s aunt now without wishing she was still his de facto mom, and she again enjoyed the company and companionship of her sister and brother. Best of all, she and Vince were going to have their own child, who was even then turning somersaults inside her womb.
“Goodness, this boy’s going to be an athlete of some sort. He’s always in motion lately.”
It was no secret that the Cutlers were football fanatics, and Jolie knew that Vince was dreaming of sitting on the sidelines to watch his son play. Connie opened her mouth to comment, but just then the doorbell rang.
“I’ll go,” she said, slipping out of her chair and waving Jolie back down into hers.
“Can’t imagine who it is,” Jolie murmured, arching her back to relieve an ache in her spine.
It was probably someone wanting to clean her carpet or sell her a magazine subscription. While she waited for Connie to return, she decided that she’d have another cup of herbal tea and rose to move to the kettle cheerfully steaming on the stovetop.
The tea bag was steeping when Connie appeared on the other side of the bar that separated the den from the kitchen. She was not alone.
“Do you happen to know where Ovida is now?” Connie asked, glancing meaningfully at the young woman at her side. “Nicole is looking for her.”
Jolie shook her head. “I think she was going over to Sharon’s, but that was hours ago.” Sharon was the oldest of Vince’s four sisters.
Nicole frowned. “I went by there,” she said, “but no one was at home.”
Jolie considered. “Obviously they went somewhere. That woman really ought to get a cell phone.” She snapped her fingers. “Sharon’s got one. Why don’t I give her a call?”
Nicole brightened visibly.
“Would you mind? I don’t usually work on Friday afternoons, but I’ve been called in to cover for another server, and I really need someone to pick up my little brother from school.”
Jolie went to the telephone and dialed Sharon’s number, but the cell went straight to voice mail. She left a brief message and hung up before turning back to Nicole.
“Sorry,” she said, leaning against the counter. “Sharon isn’t answering. She probably forgot to turn the phone on.”
Nicole sighed and shifted her weight, one hip sliding out. Jolie glanced at Connie, who lifted her eyebrows, then studied the girl.
Girl wasn’t exactly the right word. She was young, yes, and a little quirky with her dark hair twisted up on top of her head and sticking out in all directions. Fat, sleek tendrils of it hung down beside her face, which was really very pretty, no thanks to artifice.
Jolie didn’t much like to wear makeup herself and considered that it would have been a crime to cover up Nicole’s flawless ivory complexion. Nicole was really very striking, Jolie decided, despite the slender, fraying cropped jeans that she wore with clashing stripes.
Her oversize, rainbow-hued sweater was striped vertically in wide bands of vivid color, but the black-and-white stripes of the turtleneck that she wore beneath it ran horizontally, while her socks sported a diagonal pattern of yellow-and-orange bands.
It was enough to make an innocent observer dizzy.
Jolie cleared her throat and concentrated on Nicole’s pretty eyes. They were almost leonine in their shape and size, and the slight tilt at the outer edges gave her an exotic air. It was the frankness in those warm brown eyes that most appealed to Jolie, however. They seemed to speak volumes, and one thing came through loud and clear.
This girl was worried about her brother.
“I could do it,” Jolie said impulsively.
“Oh, Jo,” Connie put in quickly, “you don’t need to go out.” She turned to Nicole. “I’ll do it. Just tell me where his school is, and I’ll drive by on my way home, pick him up and drop him off at your house.”
Nicole made a face. “Actually, I don’t want him dropped off. I—I was hoping Ovida would take him home with her until I get off work. I mean, he’s thirteen, he hardly needs babysitting, but…well, he spends a lot of time alone.”
Jolie looked at Connie and saw the same conclusion in her gaze. Nicole didn’t want her brother to go home because their father was drinking.
“Do you think,” Nicole began hesitantly, “that your brother, Marcus, might…?”
“That’s brilliant!” Jolie exclaimed. “Why don’t we give him a call?”
Nicole lifted a shoulder, already backing away. “Maybe I’ll just drop by the church on my way to work.”
“Oh.” Again Jolie traded glances with her sister, her instincts perking up. “That’ll work. And if for some reason he can’t help you, just ask him to give one of us a call.”
“Thank you. I appreciate that,” Nicole said, practically out of the room.
Jolie followed, trying to see her unexpected guest out. She barely got to the entry hall before Nicole opened the front door. “Thanks again. Everyone in your family is so nice.”
“Think nothing…” The door closed before she could get the rest of it out. Jolie folded her arms consideringly before turning back toward the kitchen.
“She was certainly in a hurry,” she told Connie as she reentered the room.
“Guess she had to get to work.”
“Somehow I think it’s more than that,” Jolie said, sending her sister a droll look.
Connie set down her cup and folded her arms against the table. “I thought she seemed a little taken with him the other day. Not that he would notice.”
“True.” Sighing, Jolie lowered herself into her chair. “That’s a big part of the problem, you know. He’s just oblivious.”
Connie shrugged. “Well, maybe a minister has to be.”
“Maybe. On the other hand, how does he ever expect to find anyone if he doesn’t at least open himself up to the possibility?”
Connie smiled. “Oh, the same way we did, maybe.”
Jolie burst out laughing. “In other words, God will have to drop her on his head.”
“Something like that.” Connie grinned.
What neither of them said aloud was that Nicole Archer couldn’t possibly be the one. Indeed, it went without saying. Just as well then, that Marcus would probably never even realize that quirky little Nicole was developing a crush on him.
“I don’t get home until almost ten. The restaurant closes at nine on Fridays, but we have to clear out the electronic till and help clean up before we go.”
“No problem,” Marcus told her.
They’d met on the sidewalk in the midst of the church compound. He’d pulled in just ahead of her, having returned from the office supply store. His heart had leaped when her little jalopy had nosed into the space beside his dependable, late-model sedan and again when she’d clambered out to smile at him, costumed in the most outrageous stripes he’d ever seen. He could hardly look at her—and couldn’t look away.
Nicole gusted a huge sigh of relief and turned those big, tilted eyes up at him. “Thank you so much. It’s a huge weight off my shoulders. We need the extra money, you know, but right now Beau can’t be home with…out me,” she finished weakly.
It was cold out, but Marcus set the bag of office supplies on the hood of his sedan and leaned a hip against the fender, crossing his arms. “Have you given any more thought to what I said about calling the authorities?”
She shook her head. “It’s just not an option.”
“Nicole, it’s not going to get better until he’s faced with reality.”
“Look,” she said, skipping closer. “I’m less than two semesters away from graduation. Then Beau and I can afford to take off on our own.”
“Just like that?”
“No, not…I mean, we’re making real plans.”
Marcus didn’t have the heart to point out that their father might have a good deal more to say about that than either of them realized.
“Well, we can talk about this later. You just go on to work and leave Beau to me,” Marcus told her. “Which school is it?”
Nicole told him the name of the middle school where Beau was an eighth grader and launched into directions. “You go out here and turn right.” She pointed toward the street. “Then it’s the third light—”
“I know it well,” Marcus interrupted. “Several of our youngsters attend there, and some of our adult members are on the staff.”
She clapped her gloved hands together. “Great! I’ll call from work and let them know you’ll be picking him up.”
“Just have him wait in the office.”
“You’re sure you don’t mind entertaining him for the evening?”
“Not at all.”
She dug a toe into a crack in the pavement. “I thought maybe you had other plans or something.”
“None. I’m looking forward to the company.” He leaned toward her, aware that it wasn’t a gesture he normally employed and a little puzzled by the urge to do so now. “Gives me a good excuse to play video games.” She laughed, and the sound made him smile.
“As if any guy needs an excuse to play video games.”
“Hey, you reach a certain age,” he said with a helpless shrug.
“Puh-leeze.” Reaching out, she gave his shoulder a little shove. “You’re not exactly a grandfather.”
His first impulse was to playfully shove back, but he kept his arms tightly folded, surprised by the discipline required to do so. “I’m not exactly a kid, either.”
“Not exactly.”
She didn’t sound as if that was a bad thing. He didn’t want to think about why. Instead, he reminded himself what his purpose was.
“I do have a favor to ask in return, though,” he said.
She spread her hands. “Anything I can do. Anything at all.”
“I’d like for you and your brother to attend church.”
“Ah.” She dropped her gaze and rocked back on her heels.
“You said you might,” he cajoled.
She shined a blindingly bright smile on him. “I’d already planned on it.”
“Excellent.” He pushed away from the car and reached for the shopping bag. “This is what I call a real win-win situation.”
“Yeah, well, don’t be surprised tonight if Beau’s not quite so…enthusiastic.” She wrinkled her nose. “He is thirteen.”
Marcus chuckled. “He doesn’t like to be babysat.”
“Exactly.”
“Fine. I won’t babysit him. I’ll just pick him up, feed him and allow him to keep me company until I drop him off at your house.”
“Oh, you don’t have to do that. I’ll pick him up.”
Marcus shook his head. “No way. Not at that time of night.”
“But I’m out at that hour all the time.”
“Not if I can help it.”
She rolled her eyes. “I’m not the thirteen-year-old.”
“I’m aware of that. Nevertheless, I’d feel better if you’d go straight home after work.”
Nicole flattened her mouth. It was a very pretty mouth, too pretty to appear stern. He smiled, and she threw up her hands.
“Oh, all right. But don’t think I’m going to let you get away with treating me like a child, Marcus Wheeler, because I’m not.”
“You are, however, young and female and too pretty for your own good.” He snapped his mouth shut, wondering where on earth that had come from.
She had beamed before. Now her smile could have warned ships at sea.
He gulped and said, “I—I wouldn’t let my mother wander around on her own late at night. In fact, if I could have stopped that, she might still be alive.”
Nicole’s smile softened. “It’s terrible to lose your mom, isn’t it?”
He nodded, suddenly swamped with emotion. “She died in an auto accident.”
“I’m sorry to hear that.”
“No sorrier than I was to hear about your loss. I was only seven when she disappeared. We didn’t know she’d died for years.” Now why had he told her that?
Long, slender fingers wrapped around his hand. Even through the leather of her gloves, he felt the heat of her hand.
“That’s so sad,” she said, “At least I had my mom until I was grown.”
He almost snorted at that. She was barely grown now.
Barely, but grown.
Abruptly he stepped back. As if sensing that she’d made him uncomfortable, she swiftly turned away, saying, “I’d better run. Thanks again.”
“Don’t worry about it,” he called after her.
She flashed him a smile and dropped behind the wheel of her car. That thing looked as if it was held together with baling wire and prayer. Another reason she ought not to be running around on her own late at night. He stood where he was until she managed to crank the engine to sputtering life and bully the transmission into reverse. Only as she drove away did he turn toward the office.
He hoped that restaurant where she worked made their servers wear uniforms. Otherwise, customers were bound to lose their appetites. He laughed at the memory of all those stripes as he pushed through the heavy glass door into the outer office.