A Love So Strong

No, she just couldn’t see herself following the good minister’s advice. That didn’t mean, however, that Nicole wasn’t glad to have met Marcus Wheeler. Far from it. Looking up now into his warm, moss-green eyes she felt safe, reassured, and not a little thrilled.

Who knew that ministers were this good-looking? Not to mention young.

Okay, he was a little older than the college crowd, but thirty wasn’t exactly over the hill. Besides, she didn’t fit in with that group all that well herself. She didn’t fit in anywhere, truth be told. In some ways she felt aeons older than her friends. In others she felt like a complete innocent. They were into partying and carefree escapades. She was into her family and fulfilling her responsibilities.

For Nicole, it was all about making a future for herself and her little brother. She didn’t have time for parties and dates. She’d be tempted to make an exception for someone like Marcus, though. All antique gold and polished bronze, Marcus was not only handsome, he radiated strength, gentle confidence and genuine concern. Surely such a man would be a good influence on her little brother.

At first, mortified to have broken in on a family gathering, Nicole was now glad that she had come here today. She’d found what she needed: the strength to go home again and put up with whatever awaited her there a little longer. On the way, she’d swing by the library and pick up Beau. Meanwhile, she owed this man, if only for his kindness.

“I’m sorry about interrupting your birthday party.”

He shook his head, smiling as laughter spilled out of the living room. “Doesn’t sound to me like you put a crimp in anything.”

“Still, it was good of you to take time away from your guests to talk to me.”

“It was my pleasure. I’ll be praying for you.”

“Thank you.”

“We’ll both be praying for you, honey,” Ovida broke in, hugging her. “Think about what the pastor said, will you?”

Nicole nodded. She’d think about it, but she knew that she wouldn’t call the authorities.

“I’d better go,” she said reluctantly. “The library closes at nine.”

“Hug that brother of yours for me,” Ovida instructed.

“I will.”

“And don’t hesitate to reach out again if you need me.”

“But if you should need another ally,” Marcus interjected smoothly, reaching into his shirt pocket and producing a small card, “I can usually be reached at one of these numbers.”

Ridiculously pleased, Nicole took the card and slipped it into her glove. She would definitely be calling on the young minister, just as soon as she could come up with a valid reason. With one last squeeze of Ovida’s hand and a warm smile for Marcus Wheeler, Nicole slipped through the door that he opened for her.

He stepped outside onto the low front stoop and watched from beneath the tall brick arch until she was safely inside her old car. In his shirtsleeves against the frosty February temperatures, he continued to stand there while she cranked and cranked the starter on her rattletrap vehicle. Then, once the engine finally turned over, he lifted a hand in farewell before rejoining the party inside. It seemed a very gentlemanly thing to do.

Nicole smiled to herself as she drove off into the night, feeling the edges of his card against the back of her hand, where it nestled inside her glove.

Their paths would cross again.

Connie stirred honey into her herbal tea, tapped the spoon on the rim of the cup and laid it aside before slipping her forefinger into the dainty hole formed by the handle and lifting the hot, fragrant brew to her lips.

“So, find out any interesting tidbits about our unexpected guest at the birthday party the other night?” Jolie asked, lifting her straight, thick, biscuit-brown hair so she could lean back in her kitchen chair without trapping it.

Connie blew on her tea, then shook her bright gold hair. They’d both been curious about Nicole Archer. Something about that girl made a person sit up and take notice, something besides the wardrobe, which was even odder than those of the young women one saw on the streets these days.

“You know Marcus and his ministerial ethics,” Connie said. “All I could get out of him is that her mother and your mother-in-law were friends.”

“Were is the operative word,” Jolie divulged, absently rubbing her swollen belly. “Mrs. Archer died over three years ago. Cancer. Ovida was her Sunday School teacher at one time, and the two stayed close over the years. Now Ovida’s become sort of a surrogate mother for Nicole. Supposedly, Nicole’s father drinks a lot.”

Connie sipped from her cup and set it down again.

“I guess mothers-in-law don’t have the same ethical concerns as ministers.”

Jolie chuckled. Conversation turned to their plans for the upcoming weekend. Vince and Jolie planned to shop for the baby’s room. Connie and Kendal were taking their children to a popular pizza arcade for the birthday celebration of one of their young friends.

“We may not stay long,” Connie said. “It depends on how well Larissa does in that environment.”

Little Larissa still suffered the occasional meltdown when overstimulated, but her conduct had improved by leaps and bounds in the ten months since Connie and sweet, placid Russell had come into her life. Still, Connie and Kendal were careful to monitor her environment and coach her behavior. They made a good team and, Jolie had to admit, were excellent parents.

Jolie no longer grieved or resented the removal of her nephew from her care. The way she looked at it, everything was as it should be. As God had wanted it to be. She could be Russell’s aunt now without wishing she was still his de facto mom, and she again enjoyed the company and companionship of her sister and brother. Best of all, she and Vince were going to have their own child, who was even then turning somersaults inside her womb.

“Goodness, this boy’s going to be an athlete of some sort. He’s always in motion lately.”

It was no secret that the Cutlers were football fanatics, and Jolie knew that Vince was dreaming of sitting on the sidelines to watch his son play. Connie opened her mouth to comment, but just then the doorbell rang.

“I’ll go,” she said, slipping out of her chair and waving Jolie back down into hers.

“Can’t imagine who it is,” Jolie murmured, arching her back to relieve an ache in her spine.

It was probably someone wanting to clean her carpet or sell her a magazine subscription. While she waited for Connie to return, she decided that she’d have another cup of herbal tea and rose to move to the kettle cheerfully steaming on the stovetop.

The tea bag was steeping when Connie appeared on the other side of the bar that separated the den from the kitchen. She was not alone.

“Do you happen to know where Ovida is now?” Connie asked, glancing meaningfully at the young woman at her side. “Nicole is looking for her.”

Jolie shook her head. “I think she was going over to Sharon’s, but that was hours ago.” Sharon was the oldest of Vince’s four sisters.

Nicole frowned. “I went by there,” she said, “but no one was at home.”

Jolie considered. “Obviously they went somewhere. That woman really ought to get a cell phone.” She snapped her fingers. “Sharon’s got one. Why don’t I give her a call?”

Nicole brightened visibly.

“Would you mind? I don’t usually work on Friday afternoons, but I’ve been called in to cover for another server, and I really need someone to pick up my little brother from school.”

Jolie went to the telephone and dialed Sharon’s number, but the cell went straight to voice mail. She left a brief message and hung up before turning back to Nicole.

“Sorry,” she said, leaning against the counter. “Sharon isn’t answering. She probably forgot to turn the phone on.”

Nicole sighed and shifted her weight, one hip sliding out. Jolie glanced at Connie, who lifted her eyebrows, then studied the girl.

Girl wasn’t exactly the right word. She was young, yes, and a little quirky with her dark hair twisted up on top of her head and sticking out in all directions. Fat, sleek tendrils of it hung down beside her face, which was really very pretty, no thanks to artifice.

Jolie didn’t much like to wear makeup herself and considered that it would have been a crime to cover up Nicole’s flawless ivory complexion. Nicole was really very striking, Jolie decided, despite the slender, fraying cropped jeans that she wore with clashing stripes.

Her oversize, rainbow-hued sweater was striped vertically in wide bands of vivid color, but the black-and-white stripes of the turtleneck that she wore beneath it ran horizontally, while her socks sported a diagonal pattern of yellow-and-orange bands.