Hannah Grace (35 page)

An eternity seemed to pass before the crying spell wound down, and, when it did, a hundred wracking sighs followed on top of each other, each one ending on a hiccup.

Gabe loosened his hold, and Jesse settled into his shoulder, his nightshirt drenched with sweat that moistened Gabe's bare chest.

"I love you, Jess, you know that?" The effortless words drifted out like a song. `And so does God. He's had His eyes on you since the day you were born, and when your mama died, He decided to send you to me, even if you did take the long way to get here." He grinned over the boy's head.

Jesse sniffed. "My ma tol' me God would take care of me."

"And she was right."

He sniffed again, this time hard and loud. Then he dragged the blanket up to his face and blew his nose.

Gabe groaned. "Oh, Jess, did you have to do that? I got a whole slew of handkerchiefs in my top drawer."

Jesse giggled-a giggle wrapped up in relief and unspoken joy. Gabe sucked in a lungful of air and chuckled himself.

Seconds passed. "Are you g-gonna be my pa?"

The question lunged out at Gabe like a snake from a closet. Here he was, inexperienced in every way concerning parenting, but wanting the label of father more than he could imagine. "I'd like to be, Jesse, if you wouldn't mind,"

"Wouldn't we need a ma, too? Like maybe Hannah?"

The snake lunged again. "I'd have to wrench her out of Dr. Van Huff's grasp first,"

From under the blanket came the little wooden soldier. Jesse studied it in the moonlight. "I think she likes you better."

"Really? What makes you say so?"

"'Cause she's always lookin' out the window waitin' for you to come. And then she says, `Here comes Gabe,' all excitedlike, and runs to the mirror to fix her hair,"

Gabe pulled his arm out from under Jesse and positioned himself on his side again, propping himself up on his elbow. "So, you think that's a good sign, then?"

Jesse turned his head toward Gabe, then gave him a light bop on the arm with his toy soldier. "You better learn about women."

The statement caught him like an uppercut on the chin and made him laugh.

Later, after their banter had died down, Jesse slept soundly beside him, breaths light and peaceful. Gabe lay in a bed of mixed emotions. On the one hand, it gave him great joy to watch Jesse's wall of secrecy collapse in a heap, to be the one to assure him of his safety. On the other, knowing Rufus McCurdy's presence in the town threatened everyone's wellbeing, especially that of Jesse and Hannah, placed a huge burden of responsibility on his shoulders, filling him with a sense of dread and inadequacy.

"God, I'm going to need Your divine intervention here," he prayed, having slipped out of the sheets to kneel beside the bed in a spirit of humility. "Without You, I'm no good. In fact, I'm nothing. But with You, I can do all things. I'm leaning on Your promises, God, depending on You to give me the strength, courage, and wisdom I so need to keep this town safe.

"And thanks, Lord, for making a way for Jesse, for breaking down those barriers in his young life, giving him the freedom to trust me.

"Now, if You could just provide a way for Hannah and me...

"Son, be of good cheer," came the words of Matthew 9:2. Then, the command from Hebrews 10:35 to "cast not away therefore your confidence, which bath great recompense of reward." Gabe had read these words that very morning, followed by Hebrews 11:6: "Without faith it is impossible to please him: for he that cometh to God must believe that he is, and that he is a rewarder of them that diligently seek him."

As for strength for the day, the Lord seemed to say, did you not just say you are nothing apart from Me? Therefore, lean unto Me, for My strength is made perfect in your weakness. Trust Me, My son. Trust Me.

Comforted, Gabe returned to his bed and slept like a rock.

Despite November's biting chill, every pew in Sandy Shores Church held Sunday morning worshippers with hardly a space in between. The morning singing had been lively, Mrs. Overmyer's organ music especially skillful, and the portly Reverend Cooper's sermon timely, if not inspiring. Hannah held her Bible open to the primary passage of the morning's message, Psalm 37:1-4, silently rereading it and committing portions to memory, even as the pastor delivered his final few thoughts. "Fret not thyself because of evildoers, neither be thou envious against the workers of iniquity. For they shall soon be cut down like the grass....Trust in the LORD, and do good....Delight thyself also in the LORD; and he shallgive thee the desires of thine heart."

Over and over, distinct phrases seemed to lift themselves from the feathery pages and wash over her like fountains of mercy, as if each word held special significance for this particular time in her life. She continued to read Psalm 37: "Commit thy way unto the LORD.-Rest In the LORD....Fret not.-For yet a little while, and the wicked shall not be.-The wicked plotteth against the just....but the LORD upholdeth the righteous....He is their strength in the time of trouble....He shall deliver them from the wicked, and save them, because they trust in him."

What it all meant, she couldn't say for certain, but somewhere in the depths of her soul, she sensed the need to cling to these truths from God's Word.

Not for the first time, her eyes traveled to the back of Gabe's blond head, spanning his broad-shouldered frame, his strong arm resting on the back of the pew, and his large hand cupping Jesse's narrow shoulder. He was sitting just a row ahead of her and across the aisle, his eyes trained on the preacher. The pair nestled close, looking suspiciously like father and son. Her heart warmed to near melting. As usual, Ralston sat next to her, and, every so often, she glanced up at him, as well. Whereas Gabe seemed focused on the minister's message, Ralston looked distracted, even bored. He fidgeted throughout the service, probably thinking about his patients and his beloved medical practice, tapping his fingers on his knee, crossing and uncrossing his legs, seeming impatient for the service to reach its conclusion. With chagrin, Hannah realized this was nothing new for him. If she were to marry him, would he even persist in attending church with her?

Her eyes were drawn once more to her Bible, where she returned to Psalm 37:4: "Delight thyself also in the LORD; and he shallgive thee the desires of thine heart." This time, the words fairly popped out at her, prompting her to pray silently, Lord, I long to delight myself in You. Please help me to focus on learning Your perfect will for my life.

Ralston reached over and took her hand without warning, bringing it to his lap and clasping it between his smooth palms. The tiniest frown etched across her face, and she had to make a conscious effort to erase it. He'd held her hand on other occasions and she hadn't minded, but now she had the strongest urge to yank it away.

Her eyes traced another path to Gabe. As if he sensed her gaze, he turned his head, and, just like that, their eyes locked. Suddenly, her hand in Ralston's made her feel selfconscious, for she remembered the kisses she and Gabe shared the day before, ones that rocked her to the soles of her feet. Masterful manipulator! Gracious, had she really called him that? Thinking back, she could blame only herself.

Dragging her eyes to the pulpit, she tried her best to digest the reverend's words, but they sank into oblivion as she worried in secret. Perhaps she did find Gabriel Devlin irresistible.

In which case, to be fair, she must quickly find a way to end matters with Ralston.

Sneaking another peek at Gabe, she was surprised to find he had angled his body just so, putting her in perfect view. His sapphire gaze held her captive for several seconds until he reared back his head a few inches and lowered his eyes to Ralston's lap, delivering her a most disapproving frown.

Mortified, she snatched her hand away and started fumbling for a handkerchief in her little brown clutch purse.

After the service, rather than mingling outside, as folks did in warmer weather, people stood in crowded clusters in the church's small foyer, laughing and exchanging greetings and discussing everything from the preacher's timely message of hope to the rising prices of bread and milk. Ralston always enjoyed this part of the morning, as it gave him the opportunity to rub shoulders with a few of the upper crust, the folks he tended to migrate toward because they offered potential financial support for the hospital project. Strange-it hadn't bothered her until now the way he snubbed the "common folks," many of whom he treated in his office, in favor of ingratiating himself with the elite.

Ralston steered her elbow in the direction of Mr. Roland Withers, president of Sandy Shores Bank and Trust, and his wife, Ruby, who were standing in the entry with another finely dressed couple Hannah didn't recognize.

"Hannah!" The small voice from behind rose above the murmur of conversations taking place around her. Jesse. To Ralston's consternation, she halted her steps and turned, seeking the source of the voice.

"Come on, Hannah," Ralston urged, directing her through the shoulder-to-shoulder throng. "I want to catch Roland Withers before he leaves."

"You go ahead," she said, straining through the crowd to pinpoint Jesse's whereabouts. She couldn't possibly leave without giving him a hug.

"Oh, all right." He sighed and grimaced. "But meet me at the door." Why have I always tolerated his almost militant manner? she wondered as she watched him turn away and head in the direction of Roland Withers, vanishing from sight within seconds. She certainly didn't appreciate it coming from Gabriel Devlin. In fact, more than once she'd outright defied his directives, even when they made perfect sense. Could it be that with Gabriel, she felt free to be herself, to act in a manner befitting of her true character-and that, conversely, with Ralston, she'd professed early on to be someone she wasn't for the purpose of winning his attention? How shallow and small-minded of me, she suddenly concluded, to have fallen in love with the idea of marrying a physician but not love the man himself. But then, Ralston hadn't exactly expressed his love for her, either. He'd proposed marriage, yes, but had never professed his undying love. Perhaps to him, she represented a convenient solution and nothing more-someone to help him in the advancement of his career.

A new sense of urgency tugged at her heart. Certainly, they had reached a threshold in their relationship. The time had come to settle matters-tonight at her house after their supper date, at the very latest.

"There you are." She turned at the familiar, deep-timbred voice. As much as she wanted to conceal her elation at seeing Gabe, she knew he couldn't possibly have missed the heated flush of her cheeks. He smiled down at her, hand resting protectively, as usual, on Jesse's shoulder. "We thought we'd say hello."

Allowing herself more than a second or two to peruse Gabe's handsome features would have been improper, but, oh, how she wanted to feast her eyes on his fine charcoal-gray, almost black, wool morning suit with the grosgrain trim, his starched white shirt with the winged collar, and the silk Windsor tie, all of which fit his broad frame to perfection.

"Hello," she offered, forcing composure upon herself. Goodness, she had nearly given him a complete, top-tobottom perusal before catching herself. And Jesse looked as dapper as ever in his blue button-down shirt tucked into his baggy brown trousers, navy suspenders holding everything in place; his black hair, sufficiently greased down and parted on the side, was as shiny as a wet paintbrush. With his coat draped over his arm and his brown cap in hand, he smiled up at Hannah with a look of contentment she had never seen before.

She bent at the waist and tweaked his earlobe. "Jesse Gant, you are, by a country mile, the finest-looking boy in all of Sandy Shores,"

He scrunched up his nose and lifted a corner of his mouth. "Thanks. Gabe makes me dress up when we go to church,"

She couldn't help but think what a doting guardian Gabe had become-and what a transformation from the man who'd once considered Jesse a regular nuisance.

"I think it's a fine idea, looking your best when you come to Sunday service," she said, touching the tip of his nose and straightening her posture.

Jesse gave her a good assessment himself. "That's a nice dress and hat you're wearing."

A feather-light giggle rippled through her. "Why, thank you, fine sir."

Then, angling his gaze up at Gabe, he asked, "Don't she look pretty to you, too, Gabe?"

Gabe tipped back on his heels and kept up his perpetual grin, pleased to see, she was sure, the crimson blotches appearing on her face and neck. Oh, how she hated that her fair skin made it impossible to hide the faintest blush. "I don't think I've ever seen a prettier sight. That a new green dress you're wearing there?"

It was strange that he would notice the dress she'd ordered from a catalog and worn for the first time today, when Ralston hadn't so much as uttered one word about it. "Why, yes, it is," In a self-conscious act, she touched her throat and felt the lump there when she swallowed. Why did she suddenly feel so nervous in his presence, while he appeared so confident in hers?