03_The Unexpected Gift (12 page)

“I think it’s safe to say that we’re overwhelmed,” he said.

A flush rose on her cheeks and her own lips curved in response. “I can’t take much credit. My corporate contacts did all the work.”

“But you had those contacts. We didn’t,” Grant pointed out.

“I’m glad I could put them to good use. But there’s still a lot to do. I can work on the publicity and promotional materials, but we also need to choose a venue and handle all of the event-planning details.”

“The board can take care of that part,” Sylvia assured her. “We’ll just divide up into committees.”

“And I have good news on the alumni list,” Mary chimed in. “I’ve gone through it and identified a number of pretty prominent people in the business and political arena who may be willing to serve on an advisory board and lend their names to our efforts. Grant, as chairman, I thought the invitation should come from you.”

“I’ll take care of it,” he promised. “Just give me the list. Now let’s settle on a date for the dinner.” After some discussion, the board arrived at both a primary and a back-up date. “Is there anything else we need to do today?”

Everyone turned to Morgan, and she shook her head. “I think everything’s under control. Grant, Kit told me that she designs the brochures and print pieces for Good Shepherd. Shall I work with her to put together some layouts for the materials we’ll need?”

“Yes. I’ll let her know you’ll be calling.”

Sylvia gave Morgan a thoughtful look. “You know, if you’re going to be developing promotional materials, you should visit the camp.”

“That’s a good idea,” Mary concurred. “It’s pretty quiet right now, of course. But the facilities are nice, and Joe and Elizabeth would be glad to show you around.”

“Grant, why don’t you take her out?” Sylvia suggested.

Morgan saw the objection in his eyes even before he voiced it.

“That would take most of a day, Sylvia,” he balked.

“Well, with all the time Morgan’s put into this effort, I would think that’s the least we can do. And you know the place better than all of us put together.”

Morgan had no intention of forcing herself on a reluctant guide. “I’m sure I can develop the materials just using the background information that Grant gave me,” she stepped in.

“It’s not the same,” the older woman insisted.

“Sylvia’s right,” Grant conceded with obvious reluctance, directing his comment to Morgan. “It would be helpful if you took a look.” He turned to the older woman. “We’ll try to find a time that will work.”

The woman gave a satisfied nod. “Good.”

A short time later, Grant wrapped up the meeting, and Morgan made a quick escape before he had a chance to stop her, as he had the last time. It was obvious he didn’t want to take her to the camp. And while she would like to see it, she didn’t intend to put him in an uncomfortable position. If he wanted to contact her about taking a tour, fine. If he didn’t, she could still do a credible job on the promotional materials.

Besides, maybe that was safer. She knew Grant had been as shaken as she was after their last meeting. He probably thought it best if they limited their contact.

Intellectually, Morgan knew that that was a smart move.

But it didn’t make her heart feel any better.

“Kit, these look great!” Morgan leaned closer to examine the designs for the Good Shepherd materials that the other woman had spread out on the table in Aunt Jo’s cottage.

Kit’s face flushed with pleasure. “Well, they’re very rough. But after we talked on the phone and you faxed over the preliminary copy, I thought I’d go ahead and get a jump on the job given our abbreviated time frame. With the fund-raiser barely two months off, the invitations and brochures need to go out as soon as possible.”

“I know. And I appreciate how quickly you tackled this. I don’t see any reason to change a thing,” Morgan said as she perused the layouts. “I think we should just give them to Grant to share with the board, and then move into production as soon as we have the okay. I should have the copy finalized in the next few days.”

“Do you want to run these by him, or shall I?”

Morgan straightened up. “You might as well do it. I’m sort of off the beaten path here, and you see him more often than I do.”

Kit gathered the material together and began putting it in her portfolio case. “So when is he going to take you out to the camp?” At Morgan’s surprised look, Kit grinned. “I have my sources. I called the office because I needed Mary to e-mail me a JPEG of the logo, and she told me about Sylvia’s idea.”

“I haven’t heard from him yet. And I can put the material together without a visit,” Morgan replied, striving for an indifferent tone.

“I’m sure you can. But it would help to see the place. I’ll say something to him when I drop these off.”

“No!” At Morgan’s quick—and vehement—response, Kit turned to her in surprise. Morgan knew she’d overreacted, and made an effort to tone down her reply.

“I’m sure he’s busy, Kit. It’s not necessary.”

At Kit’s speculative look, Morgan shifted uncomfortably, hoping the other woman wouldn’t pursue the subject. She didn’t, for which Morgan was grateful.

“Well, whatever. Just e-mail me the final copy. And let me know if the board has any changes. Or I’ll let you know, depending on who hears first.” She zipped her case and turned to go, then stopped and rummaged in her pocket. “I can’t believe I almost left without giving you this.” She withdrew a folded slip of paper and held it out. “I talked to Marge Henderson at the Brunswick Tourist Bureau. I do quite a bit of work for them. Anyway, they’re looking for someone to design a new marketing program, and I mentioned your name. She said she’d love to hear from you.”

Morgan took the slip of paper and smiled. “I guess you weren’t kidding about sending me work.”

“Hey, there’s no obligation. But the opportunity is there if you’re interested. Listen, I’ve got to run. I’ll talk to you soon.”

“Okay. And thanks.”

“My pleasure.”

As Morgan closed the door, she glanced again at the slip of paper. It wasn’t exactly the big time. But it might be fun.

Besides, it was the only offer she’d had.

“So what gives with you and Morgan?” Kit asked as she pulled the layouts out of her portfolio and handed them to Grant.

“What do you mean?” His tone was cautious, his eyes wary.

“When I asked her if you’d called yet about setting up the camp tour, she said no, then jumped all over me when I told her I’d remind you.”

“Maybe she doesn’t want to go.”

Kit cocked her head, pinned him with her astute eyes, then shook her head. “Sorry. Don’t buy it.”

“Why not?”

“I think she thinks you don’t want to take her.”

“You’re reading too much into this.”

“I don’t think so.”

Grant expelled an exasperated sigh. “It’s not that big a deal, Kit.”

“I agree. It wouldn’t take more than a few hours of your time. So why are you balking?”

Irritated, Grant raked his fingers through his hair. “Just let it go, okay?”

“Look, I know you two don’t exactly see eye to eye, but she’s doing us a big favor here. Would it kill you to be nice and give her a tour?”

Planting his fists on his hips, he glared at her. “You are really stubborn, you know that?”

Kit mirrored his posture, and even though she was a good six inches shorter than him, she got as close to his face as she could. “It runs in the family,” she shot back.

She stared him down until he threw up his hands in capitulation. “Okay, fine. I’ll call her. Now will you lay off?”

“Absolutely.” She gave him a sweet smile before issuing an additional instruction. “And be nice to her, okay? She’s had a tough time.”

Grant thought about the day he’d found Morgan slumped in the back of church, head bowed, cheeks stained with tears. He thought about her soul-baring confession when he’d offered a sympathetic ear. And he thought about the way he’d felt when he’d taken her hands in his. Kit’s directive to be nice would be easy to follow. Too easy. And that scared him. A lot.

When Grant refocused on Kit, her eyes were curious. And way too perceptive. In general, he considered her empathy and insight to be assets. But not today. Because if she decided to delve into his heart, she might discover some things that surprised her. Things best kept hidden until he figured out how to deal with them.

There was only one problem.

He didn’t even know where to start.

So he said a quick goodbye, sent Kit on her way, then turned to the only One who might be able to help him sort through his present dilemma.

Lord, life was already complicated before Morgan appeared,
he prayed.
In fact, it was as complicated as I thought it could get. But I was wrong. More and more, I find my thoughts turning to her. But it’s too soon. And we’re too different. She’s not the kind of woman I thought would ever appeal to me. Yet the more I see of her, the more I find myself attracted to her.

Maybe it’s just due to loneliness, Lord. Christine has been gone now for almost three years in everything but body. And I need some warmth in my life. Someone to share my days with. But I don’t want to dishonor the memory of Christine and the special love we shared. Or make a mistake just because I yearn for the deep affection and tenderness I once knew. Please, Lord, guide me. Show me the right path. And give me the patience and strength to use restraint and take the time to discern Your will.

As Grant finished his prayer, he drew a deep, steadying breath. As always, he found comfort in sharing his burdens with the Lord. And he knew his plea had been heard.

Which was a good thing. Because he also knew that every time he saw Morgan, it would be harder to resist her loveliness. And that he would only succeed with the help of a higher power.

M
organ surveyed her wardrobe with dismay. Grant had told her to dress warmly, in old clothes and to wear boots. The boots and the warmth she could manage, but she didn’t have anything that qualified as old. Designer jeans and a cashmere turtleneck were about as close as she came, she decided, reaching for the items.

As Morgan dressed, she thought back to the conversation she’d had last night with Grant. Given his low profile since their encounter at church, she’d been surprised by his call. And even more surprised when he’d followed through on the camp tour suggestion, and invited her to drive out today.

Morgan had almost refused. Most of the promotional copy was finished. She’d even been able to incorporate some endorsements from prominent alumni, culled from the list Mary maintained. So she didn’t feel a compelling need to see the camp in order to make the written appeal more effective. Besides, she doubted Grant was eager to act as her tour guide. Maybe Kit had said something to him, after all. Or perhaps he felt obligated to follow through, after more or less promising to do so at the board meeting.

But in the end she’d accepted his invitation—for purely selfish reasons. She enjoyed being with him, even if romance wasn’t a possibility. He was a refreshing change from so many of the men she’d met in the advertising world, where form often took precedence over substance; where image was everything. With Grant, there was no pretense. He was what he seemed to be: an honest, caring, principled man who had his head on straight and whose values and priorities were in order. And she felt lucky that he’d crossed her path, if only for a few months. Because if there was one man like him, maybe there were others—who were more available.

Though for some reason that thought gave her little comfort.

A knock sounded on the door, and as Morgan rubbed her damp palms against her form-fitting jeans, she gave herself a stern reminder. We’re just friends.

But even with that warning echoing in her mind, she couldn’t rein in the sudden gallop of her heart when she opened the door. As usual, Grant looked fabulous. Casual clothes suited him, and the sheepskin-lined jacket, worn jeans that fit like a second skin and rugged boots just enhanced his already potent masculinity.

While Morgan did her quick assessment, Grant reciprocated, taking in the snug jeans that showed off her long legs to perfection and the black mock turtleneck that molded her soft curves. Her coppery hair framed her porcelain complexion, and her green eyes were spectacular.

Uncle Pete was right. She was a looker.

“Morning,” she said, her voice a bit breathless.

He cleared his throat. “Good morning.”

“Would you like some coffee before we leave?”

“No, thanks. We should get started, if you’re ready. It’s a long drive.”

“Okay. Let me grab my coat.”

She left the door open, and he took a cautious step inside, catching a fleeting whiff of the same faint, appealing fragrance he’d noticed before in her presence. As she started to shrug into her fleece-lined, quilted coat, he moved beside her and held the sleeves for her.

“Thanks,” she murmured, noting with a sinking feeling that as soon as she had the coat on he stepped away and shoved his hands in his pockets. Maybe she should have declined his invitation, after all. The tension was vibrating in the air between them, which did not bode well for a relaxing day.

He turned to go, but when she hesitated he sent her a questioning look over his shoulder.

“Listen, Grant, if you have something else you need to do today, I understand. We don’t have to visit the camp.”

Indecision flickered in his eyes before he shook his head. “No. We should go. Sylvia was right. After all the work you’ve done, you should see the place. And Joe and Elizabeth are expecting us. I know she’ll have prepared lunch.”

“Okay. Then I’m ready.”

He gave her a hand up into his truck, then climbed in beside her. As he guided the vehicle down Aunt Jo’s narrow lane and pulled onto the road, she tried to think of something to talk about, something safe, that would ease the tension between them.

“At least it’s a nice day,” she offered.

“We’re lucky. March can be pretty iffy up here. But this has been a mild winter overall.”

“That’s not exactly how I remember Christmas Eve.”

A smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. “As I recall, we were in the midst of a pretty nasty storm. You just picked a bad day to arrive.”

“Well, at last it’s been better for the past three weeks. In fact, I’ve started start taking walks, as you suggested. And Kit has sent some work my way. Between that and job-hunting and working on the Good Shepherd campaign, I’ve been keeping pretty busy.”

“By the way, every time I talk with one of the board members, they sing your praises. They can’t believe you pulled off such stellar entertainment or lined up all those corporate sponsors.”

“I’m glad something good came out of all those years of work.”

“Still nothing on the job front, I take it?”

“No. I’ve broadened my search, though, so I’m hopeful that’ll produce better results. But let’s talk about something more pleasant today. Tell me a little more about the camp, and your experience there.”

“It’s a beautiful spot, right on the shores of Spruce Lake, not too far from Lewiston,” he complied. “The first time I went, I had a sizeable chip on my shoulder. And I was feeling pretty sorry for myself. But after seeing some of the problems the other kids had, I soon realized that my situation was far better than just about anyone else’s. It didn’t take me long to see the light, realize how lucky I was—and clean up my act. The sessions are only a week long, but those seven days have a dramatic impact on a lot of kids. For me, it was a life-changing experience.”

“And you went back the next year?”

“Yes. once you go, you have priority for subsequent years. So I went for the next four summers, and then I volunteered as a counselor for part of each summer while I was in school. I still help out for a week every year. In fact…that’s where I met Christine.”

Morgan looked over at Grant’s strong profile and spoke in a quiet voice. “She must have been a very special woman.”

A muscle twitched in his jaw before he responded. “She was. I was twenty-nine when I met her, and she was a couple of years younger. She taught school in Portland. I’d never believed in love at first sight, but think I knew from the moment I met her that someday we’d marry,” he said softly. “We didn’t rush things, though. We took time to get to know each other, and the more we learned, the more we realized how much we had in common.”

Though he continued to look at the road ahead, Morgan knew he wasn’t seeing the forested terrain around them, but the woman he loved. “She was very smart and very solid in her faith. She was also loving and gentle. She had a way of making everyone who came into contact with her feel important. I’m sure that’s one of the reasons she was such a good teacher. Her students adored her, and she found great enjoyment in her work. But she was never obsessed with her career. She had a clear sense of priorities, and always put the people she loved first.”

Unlike his mother, Morgan thought. And unlike her. At least until recent weeks.

When Grant grew silent, she sensed that he’d retreated to some private, inner world of memories that remained his only link to the woman who could no longer share them. Morgan waited a few moments before broaching her next question.

“Kit mentioned once that there was an accident,” she prompted gently. “She said you were hiking?”

It seemed to take a few seconds for her question to register, and when it did Grant’s jaw tensed. He swallowed hard before answering, and his voice wasn’t quite steady when he spoke. “That’s right. We both loved the outdoors, and we’d taken a weekend trip to Acadia National Park to celebrate our fourth anniversary. The scenery is spectacular, but it’s also tough hiking. We were climbing up some rocks, and she…she slipped. I tried to grab her, but I…I didn’t move fast enough.”

As Grant struggled to hold on to his composure, his hands tightened on the wheel, whitening his knuckles.

“She called out to me when she started to fall. I grabbed for her, but she was too far away. I saw the fear in her eyes, and time seemed to stop for an instant as we looked at each other. The next thing I knew she was lying at the base of the rocks.”

The image of Christine’s crumpled, still form was forever etched in his mind, and the panic, anguish and terror he’d felt that day came rushing back with such intensity that, for a second, he couldn’t breathe. He struggled for control, and when he continued, his tone was dispassionate, almost clinical, as if that was the only way he could get through this painful review of the accident that had changed his life forever.

“I remember scrambling down the rocks as fast as I could, then kneeling beside her and reaching for her wrist. And I remember thanking God when I felt a pulse. Her face was untouched, almost serene, and there were no visible signs of injury. But she’d fallen on her back, and I knew from the first-aid courses I’d taken as a camp instructor that back and head injuries were often more serious than they first appear. Fortunately, my cell phone was working, and I was able to call for help. But it took a long time for a rescue crew to arrive. An eternity. And I remember being overcome by this crushing, frustrating sense of helplessness. There was nothing I could do while I waited except hold Christine’s hand and pray. Which I did, harder and more fervently than ever before in my life.”

He cleared his throat and turned up the heat in the truck before he went on. “When we got the prognosis, I really didn’t know what to expect. Christine had no serious damage except for the head injury, which had put her into a deep coma. The doctors said that wasn’t uncommon in cases like hers, as the brain struggled to recover. But they couldn’t tell me how long it would last. I just assumed that, in time, she would heal, and one day I’d walk in and find her waiting for me with that sparkling smile I loved. But that wasn’t to be. It seemed God had other plans for us.”

Morgan watched in silence as Grant’s face contorted with pain. She yearned to reach out and offer him some sort of comfort, but she knew there was nothing she could say or do to ease the ache in his heart. Her throat constricted with emotion, and she dug in the pocket of her coat for a tissue, hoping to make a discreet dab at her eyes before Grant caught her in tears.

But luck was against her. He turned toward her just as she lifted a tissue to her face. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you,” he apologized.

“It’s a very sad story, Grant,” she murmured. “I can’t even begin to imagine how you coped with such a tragedy. Especially so early in your marriage. It would have broken a lot of people. Yet all that time, you were unwavering in your faithfulness and devotion. I admire that more than I can say.”

“She would have done the same for me,” he replied simply, dismissing her praise.

They fell silent then, but it wasn’t the awkward, tense silence of earlier. It was a comfortable silence of reflection and ease. And that feeling lasted throughout the rest of the day.

When they arrived at the camp, Grant gave Morgan an extensive tour of the grounds, the buildings and the facilities strung along the rocky shore of the deep blue, pine-rimmed lake. He took her arm as they clambered over boulders and made their way down quiet trails cushioned by pine needles, always attentive, always staying close so she didn’t stumble. Once, when she did lose her footing, his arm shot out to steady her, and as she looked into his eyes she saw the deep blue of the cloudless sky and the clear, cobalt lake reflected in them. She also saw them darken, felt an almost imperceptible tightening of his grip on her arm, making her breath catch in her throat. But then he abruptly turned away to point out a fir-studded island in the middle of the lake.

By the time they made their way back to the main lodge, Joe and Elizabeth were ready to welcome them for a homecooked meal. While Morgan savored the flavorful pot roast and the tender carrots and potatoes, the couple told her story after story about their experiences at Good Shepherd, putting a face on the people at the camp and giving it a life that Morgan had sensed, but not felt, from the brochure Grant had first sent her.

“Remember Ricky, Grant?” Elizabeth asked as she served up warm apple cobbler for dessert.

Grant had been quiet for much of the meal, but now he smiled. “How could I forget?”

“He was a pistol,” Joe said with a laugh.

“Tell Morgan about him,” Elizabeth encouraged Grant.

Grant hesitated. He’d been reluctant to make eye contact with Morgan since that unsettling moment in the woods, when he’d once again found himself drawn to her in ways that made him feel guilty—and disloyal to Christine. But he couldn’t very well ignore Elizabeth’s request. So he took a deep breath and turned to his guest.

“Ricky came to us the first time when he was about twelve,” Grant told her. “Like a lot of the kids, he was from a troubled home. His father had deserted the family when he was two, and his mother was into the drug scene big-time. By twelve, he’d seen it all and was tough as nails. And he didn’t want any part of Good Shepherd or the ‘Jesus stuff,’ as he called it.

“Anyway, his first night here, he ran away. Except he got lost. And all of the counselors had to go out searching for him in the woods.”

“Including you,” Elizabeth interjected. “How old were you then, Grant? Eighteen, maybe?”

“Yeah, I think so. I ended up finding him, huddled under a tree about a mile from camp, absolutely terrified. He’d never been away from the city, or in a place without any lights. The darkness freaked him out.”

“Until you showed him the stars,” Joe said.

A smile whispered at Grant’s lips. “When I found him, I’m not sure if he was more scared of the dark or of the punishment for running away. But instead of getting mad, I gave him an astronomy lesson,” he explained to Morgan.

That sounded like Grant. “Why do I think you made a friend for life?” she mused with an answering smile.