Daylight had flooded Jessica’s bedroom by the time she opened her eyes the next morning. Her feet hurt from dancing. Her back ached from sitting in the camp chair. And her skin told her she hadn’t used quite enough sunscreen.
She didn’t care. She felt happier than she’d felt in ages.
Like a caress, Ridley’s voice whispered in her memory: “Jessica, I care about you. Can’t we see what comes next? No expectations, but at least open to the possibilities.”
Possibilities. For so long, she hadn’t felt as if they existed for her. And suddenly they did. The possibility that she might take a risk on love. The possibility that a man could make her a promise and she might trust him to keep it. The possibility that she might be able to believe in a whole family of her own again.
She released a soft groan as she rolled onto her side, then sat up and lowered her feet to the floor. Hopefully a shower would revive her and make her body feel as good as her spirits.
Her phone rang before she could stand. She glanced at the caller ID, then answered, “Hi, Mom.” Her eyes moved to the clock, surprised to find it was after eight.
“Good morning, sweetheart. How are you? Did you have a good time yesterday?”
“I had a great time. Billie Fisher came to get me, and she and Carol pampered me the entire day. I didn’t have to carry anything or get my own food. In fact, except for walking back and forth to the restroom, I didn’t have to get out of my chair unless I wanted to.” She decided against telling her mom about the times she’d wanted to be out of her chair. Especially when she’d been dancing with Ridley. There might come a time for that discussion, but it wasn’t now.
“I’m so glad.”
“What did you and Dad do?”
“The usual. Neighborhood potluck in the common area. Fireworks at dark.”
“I think I told you the town council here opted against fireworks this year because of the danger. Except for the safe ones and sparklers for the kids, of course.”
“But it sounds like their absence didn’t spoil anything.”
Again she thought of Ridley with his arms around her, turning her around the dance floor beneath tiny white lights, and smiled. “No. It didn’t spoil a thing.”
“Any chance I can talk you into coming to Boise for Sunday dinner? Or if not Sunday afternoon, then in the evening on Monday or Tuesday. I’ll be flying to Florida on the eighteenth, and I’m not sure if or when I’ll have a chance to drive up to see you before then. So much to organize before I go.”
Jessica could almost hear her mom’s mind whirring with to-do lists. “Can I let you know tomorrow what day works best for me?”
“Well . . . yes . . . I guess that would be all right.”
Now it was disappointment she heard. “I’m sorry, Mom. You know what. Let’s do Sunday. Usual time?”
“Oh, good. Yes. Just plan to be here before two.”
“Would you mind if I brought someone with me? I’m getting to the place I don’t want to make that drive by myself.”
“Of course I don’t mind. Your friends are always welcome.”
“Thanks. I don’t know who’ll be free at the last minute, but I’ll find somebody.” It was Ridley’s image she saw in her mind. “Can I bring anything for the dinner?”
“No, honey. Just yourself and your friend. Your dad’s going to barbecue chicken and roast corn on the cob. I’ll make a key lime pie for dessert.”
“Yum.”
“Knew you’d like it.”
Jessica ended the call a short while later and hurried into the bathroom. Half an hour later, showered and dressed for the day, she made her way to the kitchen. Soon after, decaf coffee filled her favorite mug, an egg was boiling on the stove, and bread was in the toaster.
After breakfast, her coffee mug filled for the second time, she sat at the table with her great-grandfather’s Bible open before her. She had come to love these moments spent in the old King James Bible, reading Andrew Henning’s scribbles in the margins, paying close attention to the words he had underlined. She rarely knew the reasons why he marked certain passages, even when he’d jotted something in the margins. And yet she felt a strange connection to him, as if he were more than an ancestor. Almost as if their lives had converged in some way.
Flipping the fragile paper, looking for pencil and pen marks, she stopped on a page in Psalms. Along the top of the page Andrew had written a note:
Our daughter, Francine Madge Henning, was safely born today, July 4, 1932. My first little arrow. May I be deserving of this reward.
A pencil mark pointed to two underlined verses.
“Grandma Frani?” Jessica whispered, for some reason awestruck to see the notation. She knew her grandmother’s birthday had been the fourth of July, but seeing it written on that page, eighty-seven years later, seemed both strange and wonderful. If she closed her eyes, she could imagine Grandma Frani’s father sitting at a table much like hers, writing those words, excitement and joy flowing through him.
She read the underlined verses:
Lo, children are an heritage of the LORD:
And the fruit of the womb is his reward.
As arrows are in the hand of a mighty man;
So are children of the youth.
A smile bowed her mouth. Ah. That’s why Andrew had called his daughter his first little arrow. Precious. No wonder her grandmother had been exactly that. Precious.
She leaned back in her chair and placed her hands on her abdomen. “My little arrow,” she whispered. “May I be deserving of you.”
Early in her pregnancy, after the shock and surprise, she’d had to work through so many other emotions. Knowing Joe had been unfaithful had made her wonder how she would feel about the baby after its birth. Would she love him or her as much as she’d loved Angela?
Tears pricked her eyes. As much as I still love Angela. She smiled through her tears, knowing the answer was an unfaltering yes. She would love this baby—already loved this baby—with her whole heart. Although anguish soon followed the moment of its conception, this child was God’s gift.
Once more Ridley’s image came to mind. Her pulse quickened, wanting something she didn’t quite dare put into words. And yet it forced her to wonder: Was he the sort of man who could love her baby unconditionally? She thought he was. “But how can I know for sure, Lord?”
“Hey, Steve. It’s Ridley Chesterfield.” Ridley had worked for Steve Knight for five years before leaving to join the Treehorn campaign, but the two men hadn’t spoken in well over a year.
“Ridley.” He heard the surprise in his former employer’s voice. “How you doin’, buddy?”
“Okay, now. I had some rough weeks, but I seem to be past the worst of it.”
“I heard you’d left town.”
“I did.”
“You coming back?”
Ridley looked out the window, toward Jessica’s home. “I’m not sure.”
“Are you working?”
“Not yet. Not sure what I’m going to do. Nothing to do with politics, that’s for certain.”
Steve chuckled. “Sounds wise to me.”
“Listen, when it comes time for me to look for employment, can I still depend on a good recommendation from you?”
“You know you can.”
He didn’t confess that he wasn’t nearly as sure of people as he used to be. “Thanks.”
“You bet. And make sure you look me up when you come back to Boise.”
“I’ll do it.”
He said goodbye and ended the call. After setting down the phone, he went into the kitchen to pour himself another cup of coffee. An idea was trying to solidify in his mind, had been swirling in the background of his thoughts for days. A longing had been growing in his heart. He kept thinking of how wrecked he’d been in those first days after the accusations against him had been made. He’d been caught unawares by how deeply hurt he’d been, for his good name to be besmirched, for his integrity to come into question, for the inability to set the record straight. He’d hated that he had no control over the media, hated even more knowing that once something appeared on the internet, it never actually went away. Search engines were relentless. Now he wondered how he might turn his own experiences to use for good in the lives of others. Because that’s what he’d begun to believe he was supposed to do. Was there a way? And if so, what was it?
He didn’t know, but it seemed to him that God was trying to tell him something. That the answer was waiting for him to discover it.
“Rest in the LORD and wait patiently for Him.”
He nodded, eyes closed. The words from a psalm were good ones to remember. Rest in the Lord and wait patiently. God would direct his path. He believed it more today than ever before in his life. But that didn’t mean he was very good at waiting.
Kris scratched at the back door, drawing Ridley’s attention. Carrying his coffee, he went to let the dog out. Warmth from the morning sun told him the day promised to be hotter than yesterday.
Yesterday . . .
He looked toward Jessica’s house again. Memories of their time on the dance floor washed over him. She’d felt so right in his arms. But he couldn’t forget the warning of her friend either. Jessica wouldn’t be happy away from Hope Springs. If living in this small mountain community was a condition for her happiness, then how could he play a part in her life? Was he supposed to be a part of her life?
“No expectations, but open to possibilities.” That’s what he’d told her.
If she was nervous or scared, he understood. He was a little scared himself. Or at least uncertain. After all, sharing her life would mean sharing the life of her unborn child. Was he in the right place to take on a ready-made family? For some reason he didn’t doubt that he could be a good father to Jessica’s baby. He knew in the deepest core of his being that he could—and would—love it. But perhaps loving meant giving up whatever he might want. Did it?
“God, I need answers about that too. Because I’ve got it bad for Jessica, and I don’t want to do the wrong thing for any of us. Help me know what to do next.”