Buch lesen: «God's Gift»

Praise for
DEE HENDERSON

#1 CBA Bestselling Author

“Henderson has steadily built a name for herself…intriguing…insightful and probing.”

—Publishers Weekly

“The name Dee Henderson is synonymous with authenticity. Her books shine with believable facts and descriptions while her characters think and act like the professionals they are.”

—Romantic Times BOOKclub

“Solid storytelling [and] compelling characters…make Henderson a name to watch.”

—Library Journal

“Ms. Henderson’s sparkling characters and superb plotting…sweep the reader along to a breathless conclusion.”

—Lori Copeland, bestselling author of the Brides of the West series

God’s Gift
Dee Henderson

www.millsandboon.co.uk

Take delight in the Lord,

And He will give you the desires of your heart.

Commit your way to the Lord;

Trust in Him, and He will act.

—Psalms 37:4–5

Dear Reader,

Thank you for reading God’s Gift. It holds a special place in my heart as my second book published. This was a good story to write, for it reaffirmed hope that love can overcome any challenge. Everyone faces unexpected troubles in life, and how we respond and cope is one way we show our faith. God is still in control.

I would love to hear from you. You can find me online at: www.deehenderson.com, e-mail: dee@deehenderson.com or write me care of Steeple Hill, 233 Broadway, Suite 1001, New York, NY 10279.

Sincerely,

Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Questions for Discussion

Chapter One

“Go back to the States, rest, see the doctors, shake this bug and be back here at the end of August to take the Zaire project.” His boss’s words still rang in his ears. Medical furlough. The words dreaded by every missionary. Six years in the field in remote locations. He should feel lucky to have made it this long. He didn’t.

James Graham moved down the aisle of the plane, following the other passengers, a heavy jacket bought in New York folded over one arm. It had been eighty-two degrees when he left the capital of Zaire yesterday afternoon. The pilot had announced Chicago was forty-five degrees and raining, a cold April evening.

The pain was bad tonight. It made his movements stiff and his face gaunt. He moved like an old man and he was only thirty-five. He wanted to be elated at being home, to have the chance to see his friends, his family. It had been six years since he had been back in the States. Pain was robbing him of the joy.

He would give a lot to know what bug had bit him and done all this damage. He would give a lot to have God answer his question, Why?

He stepped through the door to the airport terminal, not sure what to expect. His former business partner Kevin Bennett had his flight information. James had asked him to keep it quiet, hoping to give himself some time to recover from the flight before he saw his family. His mom did not need to see him at his worst. For fifteen years, since his dad died, he had been doing his best to not give her reason to worry about him.

James could still feel the grief from the day his mom had called him at college to gently let him know his father had died of a heart attack. He’d been ready to abandon college and move back home, step into the family business, but she had been adamant that he not. She had compromised and let him return for a semester to help, then told him to get on with his life. She had sold the family bakery and begun a profitable business breeding Samoyeds, a passion she had shared with his dad for years.

When he’d felt called six years ago to leave the construction business he and Kevin had built, to use his skills on the mission field, his mom had been the first one to encourage him to go. She was a strong lady, a positive one, but she was going to take one look at him in pain and while she wouldn’t say so, she was going to worry.

“James.”

He turned at the sound of his name and felt a smile pierce his fatigue. Six years was a long time to miss seeing a best friend. “Kevin.” He moved out of the stream of people toward the bay of windows that looked out over the runways.

They had been close friends for so long, the six years blinked away in a moment. His friend looked good. Relaxed. A little older. They had gone to high school together, played baseball as teammates, basketball as rivals, he on the blue squad, Kevin on the red. They had double-dated together and fought intensely over who would be number one and who would be number two in all the classes they shared in college.

“I won’t ask how you’re doing. You look like you did that time you fell off that roof we were replacing,” Kevin remarked. “I’m glad you’re back.”

James smiled. “I had to come back just to meet your wife.”

Kevin laughed. “I have no idea how I ended up married before you did. You’ll like Mandy.”

“I’m sure I will. She got you to settle down before you were fifty.”

“Without you around as my business partner, there was too much work to do without help. I hired Mandy’s brother—he’s good by the way—and before I knew it, I was thinking more about Mandy than I was about work. I know a good thing when I find it.”

“I’m glad, Kevin.”

“It’s your turn now.”

James smiled. “Later, Kevin. We need a few dozen more clinics built before I want to think about coming back to settle down.” He had come to the conclusion early, having watched his parents and other close friends, that marriage took time, energy and focus if you wanted it to grow and survive, and unless you were ready to make that kind of investment, it was simply better to wait. He had at least fifty more clinics to build. On the days he wondered if he had made the right choice, he had only to flip open his wallet and look at the pictures of the children the clinics had saved to know that for now, he had made the right decision. He was a patient man who planned to live a long life. There would be time for a good marriage, someday, not now—not while there was work that needed his attention. “You were able to keep my arrival quiet?”

“They think you were delayed by visa problems in Zaire. They aren’t expecting you until late tomorrow.”

“Thanks.” James rolled his shoulders, hating the pain that coursed through his body and up his spine, making every bone ache. “An hour ride should give me time to let another round of painkillers take effect.”

“Do the doctors know what made you ill?”

“No. It was probably an insect bite. They don’t know what it is, but they’re of the opinion that it will eventually run its course. I think Bob kicked me back to the States just to get me out of his office. He knows I hate a desk job.”

He had told Bob to replace him. In the remote areas where the crews worked, it was critical that every man be able to pull his own weight—lives depended on it. They couldn’t have a man who winced every time he swung a hammer managing a crew, no matter how intensely he wanted to keep the job.

James could tell that Kevin understood how deeply he had felt the loss; it was there in his eyes. He was grateful it wasn’t pity.

“Fifteen weeks of your mom’s good cooking, a baseball game or two and you will be back in Africa swinging a hammer, pouring cement, and wondering why you were crazy enough to go back.”

The house had been painted, the color of the shutters changed from dark green to dark blue, the flower beds extended along the length of the house as his mom had planned. He had grown up in this house, built in a subdivision of similar homes, the asphalt driveway going back to the garage the place of many impromptu basketball games. His dad had liked to play and James had liked the chance to razz him about getting old. James felt a deep sense of peace settle inside. He had really missed this place.

Kevin pulled into the drive behind a blue Lexus. James glanced at the car, impressed. His transportation for the last six years had been four-wheel drive trucks. He had always appreciated a nice car.

“I’ll bring in the bags,” Kevin offered.

“Thanks,” James replied absently, stepping out of the car and looking closer at the house. In the evening twilight he could see the porch still needed the third step fixed; it slanted slightly downward on the left end, and it looked as if the gutters were reaching the age when they should be replaced. He made a mental note to look at the window casings and check the roof, see what kind of age the shingles were showing. The grass was going to need to be mowed in another few weeks; he would have to make sure the mower blade was sharpened. The thought of being useful again felt good.

“Looks like your sister is here, that’s her van.”

“The Lexus?”

Kevin shook his head. “Don’t recognize it. You were the one who remembers cars.”

James led the way up the walk. “Do you still have my old Ford?”

“Runs like a dream. You would never know it’s got a hundred eighty thousand miles on it. It’s yours if you want it for the summer.”

“Thanks, I might take you up on that. You must have found a good mechanic.”

Kevin laughed. “With you gone, I had to.”

James quietly opened the front door.

His mom had redone the entryway with new wallpaper, a modern design with primary colors and bold stripes. The hardwood floors were slightly more aged but polished until they gleamed. The living room to the right had white plush carpet and new furniture, a gorgeous couch and wing-back chairs. The place was filled with light even though it was now dark outside, the room warmed by a crackling fire in the fireplace. A CD was playing country music.

The house smelled of fresh-baked bread.

There were puppies sleeping in front of the fire on a colorful braided rug. Two of them, white fluffy bears that were maybe three months old. They reminded James of the little polar bears he had seen in the Coca-Cola commercial on the flight home.

“James!”

His sister Patricia was coming down the stairs, had reached the landing when she saw him.

He met her at the base of the stairs with a wide smile, a motion to lower her voice, a deep, long hug. His ribs ached where she hugged him back, but he ignored the pain as best he could. He had missed her, his companion in mischief. “You’ve gotten even more beautiful,” he said, holding her at arm’s length to look at her. Her hair was longer and her face serene for being the mother of two children. Paul must be fulfilling his promise to keep her happy.

She laughed, her eyes wet. “What are you doing here today? We weren’t expecting you till tomorrow.”

“I like surprises,” he replied, grinning. “Where’s Mom?”

His sister returned the grin. “In the kitchen. She’s been so excited at the idea of seeing you.”

“James, I’ll leave you to the family. Call me tomorrow?” Kevin asked, touching his arm.

James smiled and reached out a hand. “I will. Thanks, Kevin.” He meant it more than he knew how to put into words.

James caught his sister’s hand and pulled her with him down the hall to the kitchen at the back of the house. He had snuck down these halls as a kid to raid the refrigerator during the night, and had spent a good portion of his teenage years sitting at the kitchen table dunking cookies in his coffee, telling Mom about the day’s events. Unlike most of his friends, he had loved to bring girlfriends home to meet his mom.

He leaned against the doorpost and watched his mom as she cleaned carrots at the chopping board. He felt tears sting his eyes. “Is there enough for one more?”

Mary spun around in surprise at his words and he saw the joy he felt mirrored in her face. The knife clattered down on the cutting board.

He steadied them both as her hug threatened to overbalance them, then leaned back to get a good look at her. “Hi, Mom.”

“You rat. You should have told me your flight was today.”

She had aged gracefully. He grinned. “And ruin the surprise?”

He stepped farther into the kitchen, his arm around her shoulders. “What’s for dinner?”

“Vegetable soup, beef Wellington, fresh asparagus.”

“And maybe apple pie,” added a voice touched with soft laughter from his left.

James turned. The lady was sitting on the far side of the kitchen table, a bag of apples beside her. She was wearing jeans and a Northwestern sweatshirt, her hair pulled back by a gold clasp, her smile filled with humor. The black Labrador he had entrusted to his mom when he moved to the mission field was sitting beside her.

The lady was gorgeous. She gestured with her knife toward the peels she had been trying to take from the apples as an unbroken strand. “Your mom swears this is possible, but you’re not supposed to arrive till tomorrow, so I have time to find out.”

James grinned at the gentle rebuke. “It’s all in the wrist,” he remarked as he moved toward her.

“Rachel Ashcroft. Most people call me Rae. Your mom is giving me a baking lesson,” she said lightly, holding out her hand.

James took her hand and returned her smile with one of his own. Rachel the Angel. His building crew had named her better than they knew. “Mom’s a good teacher.”

“And I’m a challenging student,” she replied with a grin. “It’s nice to finally meet you, James.”

He liked the sound of her voice, the fact his mother liked her. Baking lessons were more than an act of kindness, they were a hallmark back to the days of the bakery and James knew his mom didn’t just offer lessons to anyone.

He tugged a chair out at the table and turned it so he could stretch his legs out and greet his dog. The Labrador was straining to push his way into his lap, his tail beating against the table leg. “Easy, Jed, yes, it’s me,” James told the animal, stroking his gleaming coat, glad to see at fifteen years that Jedikiah appeared to still be in good health.

Rae leaned over to look past him. “Patricia, he’s not nearly as tall as you claimed,” she said in a mock whisper.

Patricia laughed as she pulled out the chair between them. “Now that he’s here, he’s not nearly as perfect as we remember.”

“Rae, I think the problem is he’s been gone long enough I’ve forgotten all the mischief he used to get into,” his mom said with a twinkle in her eye as she brought over a glass of iced tea for him. She lightly squeezed his shoulder. “It’s good to have you home, James.”

“It’s mutual, Mom,” he said softly, smiling at her, relaxing back in the chair. His journey was over for now.

It felt good to be home.

“Rae, you mean to tell me you actually volunteered for the junior high lock-in?” James teased.

They were stretched out in the living room enjoying the fire and relaxing after a wonderful dinner. His mom was beside him on the couch and his sister was sitting in the wing-back chair to his left. His dog was curled up at his feet. Rae was wrestling with the two puppies over ownership of a stretched-out sock.

“Staying up all night was no big deal. Patricia just forgot to tell me I would also be fixing breakfast for twenty junior high kids. Your niece, Emily, saved me. She’s great at making pancakes.”

“Let me guess…you taught her, Mom?”

“She’s a natural,” his mom replied, smiling.

A pager going off broke into the conversation. Rae glanced at the device clipped on her jeans. “Excuse me.” She reached across the puppies to retrieve her purse and a cellular phone.

“Hi, Scott.”

She listened for a few moments, the animation in her face changing to a more distant, focused expression. “How many yen? Okay. Yeah, I’m on my way in. See you in about twenty minutes.”

She closed the phone, got to her feet. “Sorry, I’ve got to go. Thanks for the baking lesson and dinner, Mary.”

“Any time, Rae. I enjoyed having you here.”

“Call me about this weekend, Rae, maybe we can do lunch after church,” Patricia asked.

Rae nodded. “Let me see what is on my schedule.”

James saw the uncertainty in her eyes as she pulled on her jacket, glanced at him. “I’m sure we’ll being seeing each other again,” he commented with a smile. If he had anything to say about it, they would be….

She gave a slight smile. “Probably. Good night, James.”

“Good night, Rachel.”

The drizzling rain made the road black and the street-lights shimmer as she drove to the office. Rae’s hands were tense around the wheel, for the night reminded her too much of the one on which her partner Leo had died.

She had been in New York when their mutual friend Dave called, pulled her out of a pleasant dream and abruptly flung her into the harsh reality of Leo’s death. Dave had chartered a plane to get her back without delay, and her girlfriend Lace had been waiting at O’Hare to meet her.

There hadn’t even been time to grieve during the following ten days. Days after Leo’s death, the markets began a ten percent fall. Rae, trying to learn to trade with Leo’s skills overnight, felt crushed under the stress. Yet, it had been good, that crushing weight of work; it had insured she had a reason to get up each morning, a reason to block out the pain and focus on something else.

Her friends were good and loyal and there for her. She had survived. Part of her anyway. Part of her had died along with Leo that cold, wet, October night.

The mourning had started a few weeks later, the blackness blinking out her laughter for over a year.

She had promised Dave and Lace she would start getting out more. She knew they were worried about her; it had been eighteen months since Leo’s death, but it still felt like yesterday. She wondered at times if the pain was ever going to leave.

In some respects, she knew the pain was a blessing. She had been to the bottom, the pain could not get worse. No matter what the future held for her, there was a certain comfort in knowing she had touched the bottom and she had survived. Life could offer her nothing worse than what she had already tasted.

She was picking up her life again, resuming activities she had enjoyed before Leo’s death. She had begun to bowl on a league again, was back as a sponsor with the youth programs at her church, had decided to try once again to learn how to cook. She pursued the activities though the enjoyment was still hollow.

Tonight had been nice, relaxing, if a little intimidating to meet the man everyone spoke of so highly.

James Graham had been in pain tonight. He had downplayed his answers to his mother’s questions, but Rae had observed and drawn her own conclusions. He had moved with caution, as if expecting the pain.

She had seen Leo through too many broken bones and pulled muscles; she knew how unconscious movement was, how easily you moved first without thinking and then were caught by surprise. James had been living with pain so long, he had relearned how to move.

He was worried. She had seen it in his face when he thought no one was watching. It had made her wish she could do something, anything to help. She hated to see someone suffer.

He had the guest room on the east side of the house. The shadows of the oak tree outside his window danced across the ceiling as cars passed by on the street below. The bed was comfortable, more comfortable than any he had slept in for the past six years.

He couldn’t sleep.

His body was too exhausted, his muscles too sore.

James watched the play of shadows across the ceiling, absently flexing his right wrist where the pain was unusually intense. He had learned many weeks ago that it did no good to try to fight the fatigue. Eventually, sleep would come. Still, he knew he would feel exhausted when he woke, no matter how many hours his body slept.

It had been a good evening. He couldn’t remember when he had enjoyed an evening or someone’s company more.

Rachel the Angel. His crew in Africa had given her the name because of the packages she sent twice a month via Patricia. It had taken James almost four months to get an answer from Patricia on who was taping the Chicago Bulls basketball games for them. They had rigged up a battery-powered TV/VCR to travel with them so they could enjoy the games.

Those tapes had been like water to his thirsty men. His crew had been mostly short-term help—college graduates and missionary interns there only for a specific building project. They had all been homesick for something familiar. Rachel had no idea how important those gifts had been to him and his men.

He owed her a sincere thank-you.

He had watched her over dinner and as she had played with the puppies later. He had watched her when her face was relaxed and when she smiled.

She wasn’t all she appeared to be on the surface.

Rae had been friendly, polite, and slightly flustered at the idea of interrupting a family reunion by staying for dinner. But the lightness and the laughter and the smile she had shown this evening had seemed forced. When she laughed, it didn’t reach her eyes.

James had seen grief tempered by time before. He knew he was seeing it again.

The picture on the nightstand was the last thing Rae saw before she turned off the bedside light. Leo, his arm thrown around her, grinning. They had just won the skiing competition at Indian Hills. Their combined times for the run had put them in first place. Rae had to smile at the memory. He had forgotten to tell her how to slow down.

Hanging by a slender ribbon looped over the corner of the frame was the engagement ring Leo had bought her.

It was after 2:00 a.m. The Japanese stock market had gone into a decline and the rest of the overseas markets had followed it down. She had spent hours at her office deciding strategy for the opening of the New York markets. She could feel the tension and the stress through her body as she tried to cope with what she knew the coming day was going to be like.

She had never missed Leo more.

Leo had loved the trading, thrived on it; she just felt the fear. There was an overwhelming number of decisions to make rapidly, simultaneously, and it wasn’t a game you could prepare for ahead of time, you just had to react to the markets and sense when to move in and out and when to hold and sweat it out. She would be back at her desk in three hours; she already wanted to throw up. She had never felt so angry at someone for dying as she did at Leo now.

Rae blinked back the tears and rolled onto her side to look at the moon visible over the trees.

God, why did Leo have to die? Why did he have to be driving too fast? If he hadn’t chosen that road, at that time, he would be here tonight, as my husband, sound asleep beside me. He would be looking forward to facing the markets tomorrow, instead of dreading it.

God, I miss him so much. Is this ever going to end?

Please, I can’t afford to play “I wish” tonight. I need some sleep. I need the ability to act decisively and with speed tomorrow. There are thirty clients depending on my actions, and six employees who are going to be taking their cues from me. I’m going to need Your help tomorrow. Remember me, Lord. I’m depending on You.