A Love So Strong

He’d attended the University of Texas at Arlington himself, before seminary.

“Studying what, may I ask?”

“Early childhood education.”

He smiled at that and heard himself saying, “We have a day care center at our church.”

“Oh? I’d like to work in day care again, but waiting tables pays better, especially for part-time.” She looked down at her hands, mumbling, “Dad’s on disability because of his back, and that really doesn’t go very far. If we hadn’t used Mom’s life insurance to pay off the house, I don’t know how we’d make it.”

“His drinking can’t help any,” Marcus pointed out gently, “and he isn’t likely to quit on his own.”

“Look,” Nicole said firmly, “I promised my mom.” Her beautiful brown eyes implored Marcus to understand. “I promised that I’d take care of them, Beau and Dad. Mom wouldn’t want me to turn him in to the police.”

“Nicole, your mother never imagined that your dad would fall apart like this,” Ovida pointed out. “She wouldn’t want you to risk yours or your brother’s safety.”

“It’s not that bad,” Nicole insisted. “It’s just that I never know what’s going to set him off, and he can say some really ugly things. I shouldn’t let them bother me. I know it’s the alcohol talking, but…” She sighed intensely.

“Don’t make excuses for him, honey,” Ovida advised, “and don’t let him get to you.”

She lifted big, wounded eyes to Ovida, whispering, “He said that Mom would be disappointed in me.”

Ovida scoffed at that. “No way! Your mother thought the sun rose and set in you and Beau. Your father’s the one she’d be disappointed in, not you. Never you, sugar. And no one knew Suzanne better than I did. I knew your mom from the time she was eleven years old. I was her Sunday School teacher. Trust me on this.”

Nicole smiled wanly. “Mom always said you were the big sister she never had.”

“Oh, and I loved her like a sister.”

“He loved her, too, you know,” Nicole said wistfully.

“I know,” Ovida conceded. “I know. But that doesn’t give him the right to behave this way.”

“Would you like me to speak to him?” Marcus asked. “I think he needs to hear that God still loves him.”

Nicole looked at him, wide-eyed, and shook her head. “I—I don’t think he’d sit still for that. Maybe later, once he’s calmed down.”

“He’d have to be more open than the last time I tried to talk to him,” Ovida warned sadly. “He threw me out of his house—me, who he’s known for decades. He said God and church didn’t do Suzanne any good and he didn’t want to hear any more mealymouthed Bible-thumpers telling him it was for the best.”

“Ah.” Marcus nodded, understanding the problem exactly.

He’d seen it before, a weak faith trying to believe that a desired outcome was the only right one, then shattering completely when God’s will didn’t follow the proscribed path. Jolie had succumbed to that kind of disappointment and doubt after Connie had reclaimed her son, Russell, but with prayer and patience and a willingness on Vince’s part to be used by God, she’d come to see the truth. Marcus made a mental pact with himself to pray regularly for the Archers, starting now.

At his request, Nicole bowed her head and sat quietly while he spoke to God about protection for her and her brother and emotional and spiritual healing for Dillard Archer. Afterward, he spoke to Nicole about AlAnon, the support organization for the family and dependents of alcoholics, and she seemed interested in possibly attending a meeting, if her schedule permitted. Marcus promised to locate the nearest meeting for her, although it sounded as if she already had a pretty full timetable with classes and work and her family.

“Where do you live exactly?”

“Dalworthington Gardens.”

“We’re practically neighbors then. I’m at First Church in Pantego.”

“I know that church,” Nicole said, surprising and pleasing him. “I pass it on my way to school. I like the way it looks, sort of homey and old-fashioned, almost like its own little town.”

Marcus felt his grin stretch to ridiculous proportions. Something odd shimmered through him, something he couldn’t quite identify that snatched at his breath. He cleared his throat and said, “That’s exactly the impression we were going for, a community of believers with the church at its center.”

“But don’t be fooled by the exterior,” Ovida advised Nicole. “It’s a powerful little church, a real asset to the city, and pretty cutting-edge when it comes to technology and worship.”

“We do try,” Marcus conceded. “It’s been an exciting pastorate so far.”

“You ought to visit, Nicole,” Ovida urged. “You and Beau might like it there.”

Nicole looked at Marcus, her warm brown eyes measuring him. “We might,” she said, and then she dropped her gaze pointedly.

Marcus felt a jolt. That hadn’t been personal interest he’d seen in her eyes, surely? No, of course not. To her, he must seem like the next thing to an old man, which, comparably speaking, he was. That seemed a particularly dismal thought.

As talk became more chatter than confession and hand-wringing, Marcus made himself sit silently, a mere observer now that the emotional crisis had passed. It was what he did, part of his calling. He was good at stepping up to the plate when called upon to bat and equally good at retiring once he’d taken his swing. He couldn’t help wondering why this time it was proving so difficult.

Perhaps he should rejoin the party in the other room. He, after all, was the guest of honor. Yes, he should definitely excuse himself. Yet, he sat right there, listening as Ovida and Nicole talked of events in which he’d had no part and people whom he didn’t know.

For some reason he couldn’t tear himself away. Yet, this time, observation felt strangely like being on the outside looking in.

Was he suddenly so old, Marcus wondered, that he’d lost touch already with such fresh-faced youth as this? If so, then surely it was past time for God to bring him a wife.

That wasn’t too much for a man to ask on his thirtieth birthday, was it? Then again, hadn’t he just told God that he’d be happy with those blessings already granted him?

He stared at Nicole’s pretty profile, observing the animation with which she spoke, and knew that if his interest could be elicited by this mere girl, then he was in big trouble. Not only was she too young for him, she was entirely unsuitable.

A minister’s wife did not dress in such eccentric fashion. She didn’t bounce around in her seat and gesture broadly as if physically incapable of sitting still. And she sure wouldn’t slide alarmingly coy looks across a table at a man she’d just met.

It struck him then how laughingly desperate he had become.

Nicole was little more than a child, whose life was, nevertheless, chock-full of stress and responsibility. At her age she probably batted her eyelashes at every male in the immediate vicinity without even knowing that she was doing it.

And he was a thirty-year-old fool who obviously needed to remember that his priority in life was his ministry. That ministry included helping emotionally beleaguered young ladies find the faith to make difficult decisions. If the opportunity arose, that was precisely what he would do for Miss Nicole Archer.

He had the unsettling feeling that such an opportunity would, indeed, arise and no understanding at all why that should alarm him.

Chapter Two

Nicole allowed both Marcus Wheeler and Ovida Cutler to escort her to the door, even though she knew it was an imposition for him. This was his birthday, after all, and the party had been going on without him for some time already. Still, she couldn’t resist. He was so…calm. Serene, even. And gorgeous—in a very buttoned-down and conservative way, which, oddly enough, she didn’t mind at all.

Once in the spacious entry hall, Nicole took some time to look around her, stalling the moment when she must actually leave. Western chic wasn’t her thing, but the sheer proportions of the place were impressive, and she liked the colors and the rustic light fixture overhead.

She’d barely noticed her surroundings when she’d arrived. Her pain and desperation had blinded her to everything except the need to find a little reassurance, some measure of comfort. At times like that she missed her mother so much that she literally hurt. That was when she reached out to Ovida.

Lately, her father’s drinking had escalated and she’d been reaching out more and more. Surely things would calm down soon, though. Her father seemed to cycle in and out of these ongoing rages.

He’d be surly and withdrawn for a while, then gradually would grow more belligerent until he began exploding over the smallest things. Finally he’d rage for hours, saying cruel, hurtful things to her and her brother. Eventually he’d drink himself into oblivion. Misery and apologies would follow the hangover. Then the cycle would begin again.

She hoped they were at the end of that ugly cycle now, but even if they weren’t she still couldn’t bring herself to follow the pastor’s advice to call the police or even Family Services. She couldn’t bear the thought of her father in detox or jail or her brother in foster care. Such a thing would have been inconceivable while her mother lived. Every time Nicole thought of calling the police, she’d picture her mother’s face, see the sadness, disappointment and anguish in her eyes, and she couldn’t do it.