Five

Ginny leaned forward for a look at its contents. “Oh, Beemer, it’s Tinkerbelle’s kitten. How thoughtful.”

He hung his head slightly, as if embarrassed by her praise. “I figured we could bury her here in the rose garden.”

Ginny eyed him suspiciously. “Her? How do you know this kitten is a girl?”

“I don’t. Just guessed.” With the toe of his shoe he kicked a board aside from beneath one of the larger rose bushes. “I dug a grave. I knew you’d want to bury her.”

“I do want to, but I wasn’t sure where I could do it.” She gaped at the preciseness of the hole. It was just big enough to hold the tin with a bit of room to spare. “How did you dig this with one hand?”

“Used one of those long-handled, stainless steel stirring spoons from a kitchen drawer. Guess I’ll have to buy Aunt Margaret a new one. That one kinda got bent.”

In awe of his thoughtfulness Ginny watched as Beemer dropped to one knee and carefully placed the tin in the hole. “Maybe we could give her a little funeral. You know—say a few words about how sad we are that she didn’t make it.”

Ginny’s mouth dropped open. “A funeral? What a nice idea. I’d like that.”

He reached up and took hold of her hand, pulling her down beside him. “I’ve been to a bunch of funerals but never a cat’s. What should we say?”

“I think we should thank God for allowing us to witness this kitten’s birth, even though she didn’t make it, and thank Him for the safe delivery of the other kittens and for protecting Tinkerbelle.”

“Sounds good to me.” Beemer gave her hand a squeeze. “They usually have music at a funeral. Want me to sing?”

“You’re kidding, right?”

“No, I’m not kidding. Ask Aunt Margaret. I sing to her sometimes when she can’t sleep.”

When he didn’t smile, she realized he was serious. “What would you sing?”

“Aunt Margaret taught me a couple of her favorite songs. Sometimes she and I would harmonize on them. You know ‘The Old Rugged Cross’?”

She bobbed her head. “Yes, I love that hymn.”

He grinned. “Okay. You pray, and then I’ll sing it.”

Still in awe of his kind gesture, Ginny bowed her head and prayed aloud, being sure to include each of the things they’d discussed. When she said amen, Beemer began to sing. His beautiful voice and the tenderness with which he sang the words reached deep into her inner being and twanged at the strings of her heart. He remembered every word. Oh, Beemer, dear sweet Beemer, if only you believed the words you’re singing.

When he finished, using his bare hand, he manipulated the loose dirt into the areas around the box, covering it completely, tamping down the surface. Once he finished, he took a nearby garden stake and anchored it securely into the ground to mark the spot. “Maybe we should put some flowers on it,” he told Ginny, standing and pulling his knife from his pocket then gesturing toward three perfectly formed pink roses on a nearby bush. “It looks kinda bare.”

She nodded then took the knife from his hand when he offered it. “That’s a lovely idea. Here—let me cut them.”

“You put them on the grave. You’re better at this kind of stuff than I am.”

Making sure to avoid the thorns, Ginny cut two roses and crisscrossed them over the little mound of dirt then placed the third rose down the center. “They’re beautiful, aren’t they?”

He nodded. “Yep, they sure are.”

Taking his outstretched hand, she rose and stood beside him, twining her fingers through his. “Thank you, Beemer. The funeral was a wonderful idea. I couldn’t stand the idea of simply putting Tinkerbelle’s kitten in the Dumpster.”

He smiled at her as his grasp tightened. “I’m getting to know you pretty well. I figured you’d rather bury it.”

Ginny gazed up into his face. She no longer thought of him as her cousin but as the kind of man she had dreamed all her life of marrying. Shaking her head to clear it, she realized the foolishness of her thoughts. She might not think of him as her cousin, but she was sure he thought of her that way. And she was nothing like the women Beemer chose to hang out with, who, much to her dismay, continually showed up at their door. Not only was she gun-shy when it came to men, but, plain and simple, Beemer did not share her faith. That alone was enough to keep her from falling in love with him. She’d committed herself to another man who hadn’t shared her faith and look where it got her. No, she’d never do that again. Not ever! Besides, Beemer was a confirmed bachelor. Hadn’t he made that clear?

“You okay? You kinda spaced out on me there for a second.”

“I–I’m fine. Just a little sad, that’s all.” Hoping her face hadn’t betrayed her thoughts, she felt a warmth rise to her cheeks. “Thanks, Beemer, for everything. I’d better go check on Aunt Margaret then see how Tinkerbelle is doing.”

She could feel his gaze on her as she walked to the house. She wondered if what they’d just done, burying and having a funeral for a dead kitten, was a joke to him and he was laughing behind her back. Or if Beemer Douglas was really the wonderful man she believed him to be. Either way she’d best protect her wounded heart.

“How’re you feeling, Aunt Margaret?” Ginny pulled the cord, tilting the blinds in her aunt’s room, letting in the brilliant sunlight.

“Weak and tired. God didn’t intend the human body to stay in bed all day.”

Ginny slipped her arm about her aunt’s shoulders and tugged her to a sitting position, propping pillows behind her back. “That better?”

“Much. Did you and Beemer bury that precious kitten?”

“He told you about that?”

A smile of satisfaction worked its way across her aunt’s face. “Yes, he felt really bad about Tinkerbelle’s baby dying. He knew you did, too, and he wanted to do something nice for you. Something to make you feel better. He’s a marvelous man, Ginny. I know you’ve been hurt. I learned a long time ago you can fall in love, but you can’t fall in trust. Trust has to be earned, and once it has been broken trust can rarely be restored.”

“Oh, Aunt Margaret, you’re so right about that. I doubt I’ll ever be able to trust again.”

Aunt Margaret reached out her hand. “You must forgive the man who hurt you, dear. The hatred you feel for him is eating you up inside.”

Ginny sat down on the edge of the bed. “I can’t forgive him. He ruined my life.”

“Ginny, until you learn to forgive, you’ll never be happy. You’re the only one who is suffering. Do you want him to control your life forever? The way he treated you and took advantage of you, I doubt that man ever gives you a thought. What you need is a man like Beemer.”

Ginny’s eyes widened. “Beemer? You’d want me to get involved with another man who doesn’t love the Lord?”

“He doesn’t love our Lord”—with a slight squeeze to Ginny’s hand she paused, her eyes twinkling—“yet.”

“But, Aunt Margaret, you and I both know Beemer could have his pick of women. You’ve seen how many beautiful females fall at his feet. I could never compete with them. Besides, he thinks of me as his cousin, not as someone he’d want to spend the rest of his life with.”

Aunt Margaret smiled. “Believe me, sweetie, he thinks of you as more than his cousin. Beemer is a man. I’ve seen the way he looks at you. He’s well aware you two are related by marriage, not by blood.”

Ginny winced. “I’m Beemer’s buddy, that’s all. The only thing holding us together is you. He loves you, Aunt Margaret. He’d do anything for you.”

“And for you. Didn’t he just dig a grave for your cat’s dead kitten? Sing at the funeral? I think you’re selling yourself short. Give him a chance. Give your relationship a chance. You might be surprised how much the two of you have in common.”

“I’ll be honest, Aunt Margaret. I love being with Beemer. He’s kind. He makes me laugh. He treats me like a lady. But aren’t you still forgetting he doesn’t share our faith?”

“No, dear. I haven’t forgotten. I’ve been praying for Beemer ever since Harold brought him into our family all those years ago, and all that time he’s resisted God’s call. But am I about to give up on him? No. Beemer has a good heart, but like you he’s been hurt. He needs to see and feel the healing love of Jesus. Though you’ve been hurt, Ginny, you still love the Lord. I know you can’t understand why God allowed you to be duped by that man. I can’t understand it either. But think of it this way. What if he hadn’t duped you until after you had married him? Then what? You knew that man didn’t share your faith; yet you accepted his engagement ring and set a wedding date. It seems to me that, instead of letting you down, God saved you from making a terrible mistake. I think He did the same thing for Beemer by allowing his fiancée to run out on him as she did. God can see the end from the beginning. We can’t.”

“So what am I supposed to do, Aunt Margaret? Even if Beemer were interested in me, which I know he isn’t, are you saying I should encourage a man who doesn’t love the Lord?”

“I’m saying we should both pray for Beemer. God has placed you and me in Beemer’s life as a witness for Him. We need to let God’s love shine through us. Beemer is seeking, Ginny. He wants a purpose in his life. You and I need to help him find it.”

“Hey, Ginny? Where are you?” Beemer’s voice echoed down the hallway.

“In here, Beemer, in Aunt Margaret’s room!”

“Remember, Ginny, dear, let your light shine before Beemer. Let him see God in you, and pray, pray, pray.”

Ginny bent and kissed her aunt’s cheek. “I will, Aunt Margaret. I promise.”

Beemer appeared in the doorway, cell phone in hand. “You left your phone in the kitchen. It was ringing so I answered it. The guy says he’s your boss.”