“Who are you?”
Vince looked down into clear green eyes like pale jade marbles. He backed up a step from the door.
“I’m, uh, Vincent Cutler. You left a message on my—”
“Well, it’s about time!” she exclaimed, and bent to grab a shopping bag by the door. “I’ve got a whole bag full of your mail here.”
He looked past her. She’d done wonders with his old place. The apartment had a homey, put-together feel about it that he quite liked.
“Sorry about this. I don’t mind coming after it again, if you’ll just call. Here’s my card.”
“I’ll send it. So long, Vince Cutler.”
“Wait a sec. I’d like to know your name, at least.” He smiled.
She considered a moment. “Jolie Kay Wheeler.”
His smile stretched into a grin. “Good night. Jolie Kay Wheeler. Maybe I’ll see you around.”
He didn’t know why, but even as that door closed to him, he knew somehow that he hadn’t seen the last of spunky, pretty Jolie Wheeler. Strangely enough, that thought was quite all right by him.
ARLENE JAMES
says, “Camp meetings, mission work and the church where my parents and grandparents were prominent members permeate my Oklahoma childhood memories. It was a golden time, which sustains me yet. However, only as a young, widowed mother did I truly begin growing in my personal relationship with the Lord. Through adversity, He blessed me in countless ways, one of which is a second marriage so loving and romantic it still feels like courtship!”
The author of over sixty novels, Arlene James now resides outside of Dallas, Texas, with her husband. Arlene says, “The rewards of motherhood have indeed been extraordinary for me. Yet I’ve looked forward to this new stage of my life.” Her need to write is greater than ever, a fact that frankly amazes her, as she’s been at it since the eighth grade!
Deck the Halls
Arlene James
Show me Your ways, O LORD;
Teach me Your paths.
—Psalms 25:4
For my husband, who has taught me how real
and rewarding love can be.
Dear Reader,
Have you ever forgotten to have your mail forwarded or change an address? I certainly have, and the experience impressed upon me the knowledge that God does indeed move in mysterious ways. I’m always amazed at the many, many ways He uses to touch us. He can and does employ unusual and profound circumstances to work in our lives, but He also uses the small, mundane, often irritating, everyday matters, too.
It’s not just a matter of circumstance, though. God uses people, thankfully. I earnestly hope, in some small way, to be one of them. And I want each of my readers to know that by the simple act of picking up one of my books and spending time with it, you have made yourself a blessing to me.
So seldom do we actually deserve the rewards and blessings that God heaps upon us that we too often turn a blind eye to them, certain that such largesse is not meant for us and unwilling to be disappointed by expecting too much. Yet, when we first seek to learn the ways of God, we begin to become acquainted with His boundless love. Only by learning that happy lesson are we able to truly receive all that He has in store for us.
So, once more, here’s to love.
God bless,
Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter One
The voice on the answering machine, while obviously feminine, sounded curt and cheeky.
“Come to your old apartment and get your mail before I trash it. Never heard of mail forwarding?”
Vince smacked the heel of one hand against his forehead. Where was his brain? He hadn’t given a single thought to having his personal mail forwarded. In the past few weeks he’d been too busy settling into the new house, replacing his business accountant and hiring enough mechanics to fulfill a city maintenance contract to think about his personal mail.
Just about everything important came to the offices of Cutler Automotive, but that was no excuse. He should’ve realized that the new tenant of his old apartment would have to deal with his share of circulars and the other junk that routinely clogged every mailbox in the Dallas/Fort Worth Metroplex. Besides, something important did occasionally find its way into his residential mailbox. In fact, the materials he’d been expecting about the spring singles’ retreat at his church would undoubtedly be among the papers waiting for him at the old apartment.
He hit a button and listened to the message again. Her irritation couldn’t have been more obvious, but he found himself smiling at the huskiness of her voice melded with the tartness of her tone. He heard both strength and vulnerability there, an odd combination of toughness and femininity. Since he was still wearing his jacket over his work clothes, he decided that he might as well go at once, make his apologies and relieve her of the unwanted burden of his mail.
Picking up his keys from the counter, he jauntily tossed them into the air, snatched them back again and retraced his steps through the new, sparsely furnished house to the garage and the shiny, white, three-quarter-ton pickup truck waiting there. Glancing at the sign proudly painted on the door, he climbed inside and started it up. The powerful engine rumbled throatily for a moment before he backed the truck out onto the drive and in to the street.
As he shifted the transmission into a forward gear he tossed a wave at his next-door neighbor Steve, who was taking advantage of the clear, early-November weather in the last hour of daylight to walk his dog. The Boltons were nice people. Wendy, the missus, had been one of the first people to welcome Vince to the neighborhood. They were about his age and the proud parents of a sixteen-month-old curly-top named Mandy, who took most of their time and attention, but Wendy seemed determined to “fix him up” with one of her single friends. Steve had confided that his wife found Vince too “tall, dark and delish” to be still single at twenty-nine, but that she’d have felt the same way if he’d been a “bald warthog.”
Vince didn’t know about being “tall, dark and delish,” but he didn’t think he was a “bald warthog,” either. He’d happily give up the single state the moment that God brought the right woman into his life. So far he hadn’t stumbled across her—not that he’d exactly been out beating the bushes for the future Mrs. Cutler.
He was a busy man with a booming business, three garages and a large extended family, including his parents, four sisters and half a dozen nieces and nephews, with