Joyful (26 page)

Those worries passed as he saw her expression. Her eyes were bright with joy, her lips were slightly parted.

“Randall, are ya ready?” she gently prodded.

He swallowed. Lifted one of her hands and brought it to his lips. Kissed her knuckles.

Then, at long last he was ready. “Elizabeth, you now know how much I love you. It's also obvious that I need you something awful. You make me a better man. I don't ever want to be without you again.”

Quickly, he peeked at her expression. Tears glistened in her eyes now. Happy tears.

He kissed her knuckles again.

“Beth, I think I could stand here for hours and tell you all the things I like about you. I could tell you that I've always thought your brown eyes were pretty. That I've always thought you were lovely. That I've never forgotten the first time I heard you laugh. But I'm too anxious for that.”

She squeezed his hands. “Just ask me, Randall.”

“All right. Elizabeth Nolt, would you marry me? Marry me so I won't be without you any longer? Marry me so I can hear your laughter in our house? Marry me so you'll always be mine?”

Those were the words she'd always hoped he'd say. Words she'd always hoped to hear.

And so, because of that, there was only one answer.

“Of course, Randall Beiler. Of course I will marry you.”

He breathed a sigh of relief—just before he wrapped his arms around her and kissed her.

And when she lifted her arms and wrapped them around his neck, Elizabeth at last discovered what it felt like to be completely wanted and needed and loved.

And her heart filled with joy. So much joy.

Surely enough to last a whole lifetime.

Fall had come again to Sugarcreek. The sky was a lovely robin's-egg blue, the trees dotting the countryside were glistening in vibrant shades of gold and red, and most of the shops and restaurants in town had mums decorating their doorsteps.

The Grabers' store had two wheelbarrows full of pumpkins on the front porch and the Sugarcreek Inn was offering a special on their pumpkin pie.

As Randall Beiler strolled down the sidewalk by his wife's side, he took note of everything. Liked how some things never changed.

As his gaze darted to the crowd of people in front of him, all of whom happened to be related to him by birth or by marriage, he also reflected how happy he was that some things changed a lot.

When they stopped at the front door of the Sugarcreek Inn, Junior faced them all. Obviously it didn't matter how old they were—he was determined to always, always be in charge.

Junior's eyes darted around the lot of them. “Do we have everyone?”

“Yep,” Levi said.

“Sure?”

Micah sighed. “
Bruder
,
jah
. We are all here. All thirteen of us.”

“I thought there were only twelve?”

“Miriam's holding your namesake,
Albert
. We've got eight Beilers, four spouses, and one baby boy. Thirteen.”

“Impressive counting,” Beverly murmured.

“I am the smartest one, you know,” Micah quipped.

Just as he had when he was a little boy, Junior scowled at the use of his real name. “I'm just trying to keep track of everyone. It's not often that we go out to eat, you know.”

Before Randall could comment about that, Miriam Beiler curved the hand that wasn't cradling Albert around her husband's arm. “Luckily for everyone involved, I know this restaurant well,” she said quickly. “
Danke
for coming out today. I know this means a lot to everyone.”

Claire nodded. “It's a special day, to be sure.”

At last, Junior opened the door and the rest of them filed by, each entering the restaurant almost silently. At the end of the group was little Kaylene, who at almost ten years of age wasn't quite so little anymore.

But she still grasped her big brother's hand when he held it out, smiling sweetly at him when they entered the dining room.

Pippa Reyes met them, a shiny new diamond engagement ring sparkling on her left hand. “Everything's ready,” she said with a smile. “We set up all the tables just the way you wanted them, too,” she said.

Randall squeezed Elizabeth's hand as they followed Junior and Kaylene to the long line of tables and fifteen chairs.

After everyone sat down, taking care to leave the two chairs empty at either end, Randall stood up. Last night, he'd told Junior that he'd like to do the talking, both of them knowing that though Junior was still the head of their family, he would be too choked up to do the occasion justice.

After clearing his throat, he said, “Over the years, our family has been through some hardships. We've also had our share of celebrations. I think we Beilers have always had our moments when we've asked the Lord why things happened the way they did. It wasn't easy losing Mamm and Daed. It hasn't been easy raising ourselves, either. But as I look around at all of us, including Junior's Junior, I am more certain than ever that we all turned out okay.” He paused, smiled at his older sisters. “Maybe better than okay.”

He cleared his throat. “Anyway, now that things are settled.”

“More or less,” Levi quipped.

“More or less. Junior and I decided that we should commemorate it. Such that it is.”

Taking a deep breath, he pushed through the lump in his throat and finished things up. “Today marks what would have been our parents' thirtieth anniversary. I thought it was fitting that we remember this day, the day our parents began our family.” He looked at the empty chairs, remembering earlier years, years when both his parents filled the spaces . . . and those sad years when only their father did.

He remembered Levi having nightmares and Kaylene feeling guilty for being born. He remembered standing by gravesides and joining the rest of the family in Junior's living room while they waited for Miriam to give birth.

But most of all he remembered always knowing, that no matter what, he was never alone. The bond he had with his siblings was the strongest bond he had. Irrefutable. Solid. Special.

Everything.

He reached out and picked up his glass of water. “So, um, with that in mind, I'd like to raise a toast to Mamm and Daed, and to make a promise that wherever I am, no matter what, I will always be with you all on October first. And I'm asking you all to make that promise, too.”

After a brief burst of silence, the lot of them raised their glasses and nodded.

And with that, he sat down. Hopeful for their future. Thankful for their past. Joyful in his heart.

And realizing that sometimes . . . sometimes, not a single word ever needed to be said.

Everything was understood.

About the author

Photo by The New Studio

P
EOPLE OFTEN ASK
how I started writing. Some believe I've been a writer all my life; others ask if I've always felt I had a story I needed to tell. I'm afraid my reasons couldn't be more different. See, I started writing one day because I didn't have anything to read.

I've always loved to read. I was the girl in the back of the classroom with her nose in a book, the mom who kept a couple of novels in her car to read during soccer practice, the person who made weekly visits to the bookstore and the library.

Back when I taught elementary school, I used to read during my lunch breaks. One day, when I realized I'd forgotten to bring something to read, I turned on my computer and took a leap of faith. Feeling a little like I was doing something wrong, I typed those first words:
Chapter One.

I didn't start writing with the intent of publishing a book. Actually, I just wrote for myself.

For the most part, I still write for myself, which is why, I think, I'm able to write so much. I write books that I'd like to read. Books that I would have liked to have in my old teacher tote bag. I'm always relieved and surprised and so happy when other people want to read my books, too!

Another question I'm often asked is why I choose to write inspirational fiction. Maybe at first glance, it does seem surprising. I'm not the type of person who usually talks about my faith in the line at the grocery store or when I'm out to lunch with friends. For me, my faith has always felt like more of a private thing. I feel that I'm still on my faith journey—still learning and studying God's word.

And that, I think, is why writing inspirational fiction is such a good fit for me. I enjoy writing about characters who happen to be in the middle of their faith journeys, too. They're not perfect, and they don't always make the right decisions. Sometimes they make mistakes, and sometimes they do something they're proud of. They're characters who are a lot like me.

Only God knows what else He has in store for me. He's given me the will and the ability to write stories to glorify Him. He's put many people in my life who are supportive and caring. I feel blessed and thankful . . . and excited to see what will happen next!

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I
T
'
S NOT A BIG SECRET
. I read a lot. Usually two to three books a week. I also like to read all kinds of books—and I also reread favorites over and over.

Here are ten books that currently have my attention. Next week? The list will probably look very different!

Running Blind
by Lee Child.

My husband and I really enjoy Lee Child's books. I'm currently reading them out loud to my husband when we go on road trips.

The Bedwyn Saga books by Mary Balogh.

Oh, Mary Balogh. She's so, so talented. I've already read this whole series but I couldn't resist reading them again. Yes, all six of them.

Shattered
by Dani Pettrey.

I have an awful habit of reading books when things are slow at my book signings. I picked this up at the Gospel Book Shop in Sugarcreek. So far, I'm loving it!

Death on Blackheath
by Anne Perry.

Anne Perry is my very favorite author. I love her Victorian mysteries, especially the ones featuring Charlotte and Thomas Pitt. The folks at my neighborhood Barnes & Noble know to put each new hardcover aside for me when Anne's books are released. I always buy them the day they come out, and I always take my time reading them.

Killing Jesus
by Bill O'Reilly.

We've reading this in my small group at church. So far, we've had some great discussions.

Outlander
by Diana Gabaldon.

Those of you who've read this know why it's on my bookshelf.

All of Robyn Carr's books.

I'm a fan of hers.

The Encyclopedia of Chicago
by James R. Grossman.

I'm writing a couple of historical novels set during the 1893 Chicago World's Fair. This book has been invaluable to me.

The Measure of Katie Calloway
by Serena B. Miller.

It's a great, award-winning historical novel set in a logging camp.

Murder in Thrall
by Anne Cleeland.

This is a contemporary Scotland Yard mystery.