Thankful (26 page)
Authors: Shelley Shepard Gray
Her brothers looked at her and Aden curiously, as if they couldn't understand what the fuss was about. Leanna, being twelve, had stars in her eyes. Christina could practically read her mindâLeanna was eagerly planning their wedding already.
Even Treva looked bemused. Christina knew her sister was going to be genuinely happy for her and Aden. Well, she would be, as soon as she got over the fact that Christina had kept her in the dark.
Her parents, on the other hand, were a different story. Her father seemed unable to look away from their linked fingers. And her mother was practically biting her tongue. It was obvious she had much to say.
She barely waited a full minute. “Do either of you feel compelled to tell us what's going on yet?”
Aden smiled. “Today is the very best day of my life. Christina here has just agreed to be my wife.”
“I knew it!” Leanna announced. “Can I help you plan it, Christy?”
“Of course you can,” she said softly. “Mamm, Daed, I am mighty happy. Will you join me in my happiness?”
Her mother crossed her arms over her chest. “And all this just happened? Just like that?”
“Hardly,” Aden said.
“Your eyes might be full of stars, but we need more of an explanation, daughter,” her father said. “We raised you practically as siblings.”
“But I never thought of Aden that way,” Christina said. “I've loved him forever. The truth is that this day has been years in the making.”
Her mother raised her eyebrows. “That long?”
Carefully, Aden wrapped an arm around Christina, showing them that he felt exactly the same way she did. That they'd waited long enough. And that they were old enough to make up their own minds. “It's the happiest day of my life,” he said, taking time to look each person in the eye. “I'd love it if you would be happy, too. Because, at long last, I would have it no other way.”
“And you, daughter?” her mother asked. “What do you have to say about all of this?”
Christina took a breath, considering all the things she could say, then finally decided to speak from the heart.
“Only that I am thankful,” she said at last. “I am so very, very thankful.”
Turning away from her family, she looked into Aden's eyes. She saw love there, and the promise of a beautiful future together.
And that was when she realized that being thankful summed up her feelings.
In fact, it was almost more than enough.
With a gasp and a cry, she opened her eyes, breathing deeply, taking in fresh, fortifying breaths like the counselor had taught her.
Bit by bit, the last remnants of her dream slid away, letting Christina Reese blink and focus on the present. As she became more aware of the soft flannel sheets that surrounded her, the faint scent of roses from the bouquet on her chest of drawers, and the warm sense of security that now glowed inside her, she knew she was at home, not in dark, brackish water.
She was sitting in her bed, warm and cozy in her favorite nightgown, the one that Treva had embroidered tiny pink flowers on.
She stretched her legs, happy that her breathing had already almost returned to normal. Her episodes were getting better and better.
Now, if she could only convince her husband to stay by her side through the night.
She knew where he was, of course. After slipping on her robe and slippers, she walked to the kitchenâand found Aden almost exactly where she'd imagined him to be. He was standing at the kitchen counter, contentedly buttering two slices of bread.
“Aden, I thought you were going to try to stop your middle-of-the-night wanderings.”
“I would, if I didn't get so hungry.” Setting his knife down, he examined her face more closely. “Another dream tonight?”
“Yep.”
“I'm sorry I wasn't next to you.”
The last time she'd had her nightmare he'd held her for hours afterward, whispering over and over that she was all right. “It's okay, it wasn't too bad this time.”
“Really?”
“I woke up before things got too bad. And,” she added proudly, “I didn't even start hyperventilating. I'm making big strides.”
“That is good news.” Walking over, he kissed her brow. “Congratulations. You're right, love. That is
wonderful-gut
progress.”
“Now all we have to do is cure you of your need for grilled ham-and-cheese sandwiches,” she joked.
Her raised his brows. “So, wife, would you care for one?”
By now they almost had their own script. “Do you have mustard?”
Eyes sparkling, he picked up the jar of Grey Poupon. “Got it right here.”
“Then my answer is yes, of course.”
He grinned as he pulled out more bread and began making two sandwiches. She sat at their small kitchen table and contentedly watched Aden make yet another sandwich.
It had been a busy month. After finally admitting their love to each otherâand to her familyâthings had moved forward like a roller coaster. Wedding plans began in earnest, with Leanna spearheading the arrangements.
They'd decided to move into his little apartment instead of building onto the main house, wanting to spend their first year of marriage in relative privacy.
In the middle of everything Aden and she talked more and more about that skating accident all those years ago. He forced her to tell her parents about her nightmares. And then, much to her dismay, all of them encouraged her to talk with one of the counselors at Aden's hospital.
Talking about things helped. All it took was a couple of sessions with the counselor to learn some ways to help her cope with her darkest fears.
And now, here they were, newlyweds, living on their own and enjoying the novelty of setting up their own home. And realizing that while so many things were different between them, much was basically the same.
“Here you go, Christy,” Aden said as he slid a plate in front of her before sitting down with his own.
Just as it had always been, the first bite was the very best. “It's a good one tonight.”
“Danke.”
They chewed in silence for a few minutes, then Christy pushed her plate to one side. “So, why were you up tonight? You didn't have a bad dream, too, did you?”
“I just couldn't sleep.”
“Oh? Were you worried about something?”
“Not at all.” Standing up, he took her hand and pulled her up against him. “I woke up wide awake, and then made the mistake of counting my blessings as a way to get back to sleep.”
“What was wrong with that?”
His expression turned bemused. “It just happens, I have a lot to thank the good Lord for. It takes a while. By the time I was done I got hungry.”
Christina chuckled as she turned off the kerosene lamp. “I've never heard of someone having trouble sleeping because they were too happy.”
“What can I say?” he quipped. “I'm a man in a million, Christina.”
“That is true,” she murmured as she led her husband out of the kitchen. He
was
a man in a million. The only man she'd ever wanted. “It's time we went to bed, Aden.”
Smiling slowly, he nodded. “Christina dear, you read my mind. I just happened to be thinking the very same thing.” She giggled as she led the way in the dark, knowing that even if he couldn't see her, he would follow.
Knowing she would never want it to be any other way.
A Sneak Peek of Shelley Shepard Gray's Next Book,
Joyful
Meet Shelley Shepard Gray
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 journeyâstill 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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Letter from the Author
Dear Reader,
It wasn't my finest moment. One afternoon, just a few days before Easter, my husband and I took our two children to one of the nicest malls in Dallas. The whole purpose? To have lunch at Neiman Marcus.
It sounds silly now, but back then, well, I needed a fancy lunch out. We had two kids under two, and I spent my days carting kids to day care, teaching school all day, and then doing laundry way too late at night. We didn't have a lot of extra money, and it seemed that every bit we did have went toward diapers and the hundred things two tiny children need. I was tired and stressed and pretty sick of wearing clothes with stains on them.