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Second Chance at Love
Irene Brand
College sweethearts Amelia Stone and Chase Ramsey had married right after graduation, but infidelity destroyed their young marriage. Now, more than a decade later, severe flooding in West Virginia had brought them together again in their mellow years. They were older, wiser…and both had become Christians. Their working side by side for disaster relief rekindled the flame that had never been extinguished, and they learned what makes a marriage truly last–patience and forgiveness. Was God giving this special couple a second chance at love?
“Amelia, I see you’re dressed for outdoor work, so you go with Chase, and…”
Stunned by this turn of events, Amelia didn’t hear the rest of Rick’s assignments. She could not spend the day alone with Chase!
When Chase appeared at her side, saying quietly, “This will be like old times,” Amelia knew it was too late to refuse politely. Were her steps destined to travel a path that would disrupt the even current of life she’d developed in the post-Chase era, as she always thought of the last fifteen years?
The eagerness in Chase’s clear gray eyes was disconcerting, and she forced herself to regard him dispassionately, as she might look at a stranger. Amelia considered the man facing her to be a stranger. Very little that she’d noted in the short time they’d spent together yesterday had reminded her of the man who’d loved her, married her and disillusioned her so thoroughly that she had no interest in marrying again.
IRENE BRAND
Writing has been a lifelong interest of this author, who says that she started her first novel when she was eleven years old and hasn’t finished it yet. However, since 1984, she’s published thirty-two contemporary and historical novels and three nonfiction titles. She started writing professionally in 1977, after she completed her master’s degree in history at Marshall University. Irene taught in secondary public schools for twenty-three years, but retired in 1989 to devote herself to writing.
Consistent involvement in the activities of her local church has been a source of inspiration for Irene’s work. Traveling with her husband, Rod, to all fifty states and to thirty-two foreign countries has also inspired her writing. Irene is grateful to the many readers who have written to say that her inspiring stories and compelling portrayals of characters with strong faith have made a positive impression on their lives. You can write to her at P.O. Box 2770, Southside, WV 25187 or visit her Web site at www.irenebrand.com.
Second Chance at Love
Irene Brand
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
For He shall give His angels charge over thee, to keep thee in all thy ways.
—Psalms 91:11
With appreciation to:
Bill Davis, County Emergency Director,
Mingo County, West Virginia;
Cecil E. Hatfield, Executive Director,
Tug Valley Chamber of Commerce;
Judy & Tom Ashley, Red Cross volunteers,
Putnam County, West Virginia;
Charlie Erwin, Office Coordinator, Red Cross,
Putnam County, West Virginia.
Dear Reader,
By now, you’ve finished reading Second Chance at Love. Hopefully, you’re cheering for Chase and Amelia and sharing the joy of their reconciliation.
During the writing of this book, my mind has often dwelt on God’s willingness—indeed, eagerness—to give His people new opportunities to live abundant lives. Not only does He give the second chance, but the third, fourth, fifth—limitless opportunities for reconciliation with Him. No matter how many times we mess up our lives, His arm is outstretched to lift us from the mire of our mistakes. There is no problem so great that God cannot solve it.
Consider people in the Bible who have been favored with second chances—Adam and Eve, Noah, Abraham, Jacob, Samson, David, Peter and Paul. Although these people of faith are often remembered for their failures, we rejoice in knowing that they rose above their mistakes and took another opportunity to be faithful in God’s service.
Whatever mistakes we’ve made, God is willing and able to give other chances to serve Him.
May God bless you.
Contents
Chapter One (#u6aa3e04d-68f6-5f4d-a376-6d521e346e80)
Chapter Two (#u04fbc816-be2b-5b6a-8232-4f85ff388d1c)
Chapter Three (#u38091750-85b4-5102-b8b8-891da86b3173)
Chapter Four (#ua9634285-3781-5be1-9f9a-24d2873baf62)
Chapter Five (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Six (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Seven (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eight (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Nine (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Ten (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eleven (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twelve (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Thirteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Fourteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Fifteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Sixteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Seventeen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter One
Amelia Stone didn’t consider herself an impetuous woman until she said, “I want to go and help. Can you manage without me for three weeks?” Many times during the following few days, she questioned this comment to her supervisor.
After her usual morning routine, when Amelia had entered the American Red Cross office, she’d greeted Tom Matney, her supervisor, picked up a cup of coffee and gone to her computer to check the local and national news.
“Six dead, ten missing in flood,” she’d read aloud.
“Where?” Tom asked.
“In southern West Virginia.”
Amelia continued reading the computer message. “Several areas have been inundated with floodwaters from the Tug Fork River, a border stream between West Virginia and Kentucky.”
Before Amelia had finished reading the account of death and destruction, Tom laid a fax sheet on her desk—a call for help from the West Virginia Red Cross. She experienced an overwhelming urge to answer that call. Amelia wasn’t naturally impulsive, so her reaction to this emergency surprised her, as well as her supervisor.
Tom had stared at her with incredulous eyes when she volunteered. A fourteen-year employee of the American Red Cross, Amelia had been exposed to many national tragedies, but she’d always been content to remain at her desk to do her part in helping the unfortunate.
“We’re very busy, as you know,” Tom said slowly, “but we must send help. Speed is of the essence in a calamity like this. If you can get ready to go today, I’ll round up other volunteers to follow you as soon as possible.”
The sudden devastation that had wrecked almost five thousand homes was enough to stir anyone’s sympathy, and Amelia had felt a wave of compassion that she’d never known before. She was a warmhearted person, but never until this moment had she felt the need to physically help others.
By midafternoon, Amelia had left Philadelphia and was on her way to West Virginia. After her sudden decision, she’d made arrangements for a volunteer worker to take over her office duties. She’d gone to her apartment, packed her car with everything she thought she would need for three weeks and headed south in her Buick, a Christmas gift from her parents. Only then had she taken time to consider her hasty action.
Having been pampered by rich parents for years, Amelia decided in her late twenties to seek a more worthwhile life than the one she’d had up to that time. She’d gained a new social perspective when she became a Christian, and a sense of mission had led Amelia to work for the Red Cross. She knew she’d been of service as an office worker, so why did she have this sudden urge, at the mellow age of forty-three, to become personally involved?
Last night, during her devotional time, Amelia had read the apostle Paul’s experience in the first century when he’d received a call to take the Gospel into Macedonia. “After Paul had seen the vision, we got ready at once to leave for Macedonia, concluding that God had called us to preach the Gospel to them.”
Paul’s experience fresh in her mind may have been the reason she’d responded so readily to the plight of the flood victims. But, to Amelia, it seemed more than that—it felt as if she’d had no control over the decision she’d made. As if there was no option at all—that God was directing her life in a way He had never done before.
“Why, God?” Amelia asked more than once as she traveled. When she reached Charleston, West Virginia, the next day, she still didn’t have an answer.
She was welcomed heartily by the representatives at the Red Cross office on Virginia Street. The secretary informed Amelia she couldn’t drive into the flood-ravaged area.
“Traffic is at a standstill in that part of the state,” the woman said. “Roads and bridges have been destroyed, and many communities are completely isolated by the floodwaters. The National Guard is sending helicopters to rescue stranded people. The next flight goes in an hour, and they’re taking a few volunteers. There’s room for you. Take only absolute necessities. As soon as the water recedes, you can come back for your car.”
Amelia wasn’t thrilled about a helicopter ride, but she accepted it as readily as if she flew to work every day. She gathered a few changes of clothing and her toiletries, dumped them in a duffel bag and headed for the airport, where she parked her car and boarded the waiting helicopter.
The mountainous region didn’t have enough flat land for an airport, and Yeager Airport was located on a wide expanse that had been formed by leveling several mountain peaks and filling in the valleys. The noise from the helicopter’s whirling blades discouraged talking with the ten other volunteers on board, so Amelia focused her attention on the scenery. She looked with interest at the tugboat traveling northward on the big river that divided the city of Charleston. The golden dome of the state’s Capitol gleamed in the midday sunlight.
The city was soon lost to view and the terrain became more rugged. Wooded mountain areas were bisected by narrow valleys, and to Amelia, who’d always lived in large cities, the scenery was breathtaking. At the higher altitudes, the trees were leafless, but dogwood and redbud trees decorated the landscape with a mist of white and fuchsia blossoms. Numerous towns had been built along the banks of mountain streams. Frequently, the barrenness of strip mines marred her enjoyment of the scenery.
As they approached the flooded area, Amelia noticed that the mountains had been timbered. Discarded branches, left behind after logging, had blocked many streams. The absence of vegetation had no doubt contributed to a swift runoff of melted snow and heavy rains.
Amelia couldn’t believe the havoc she saw when she looked down upon the flooded area as the helicopter neared the town of Williamson. The major business district was protected by a floodwall, but in the outlying districts, uprooted trees were coated with layers of mud and trash. Roads were washed away. Piles of rubble filled entire hollows where neighborhoods had once stood. Only the tops of automobiles and trucks protruded from the muddy water.
The helicopter landed on the pad at Williamson Memorial Hospital where a van waited to take them to Red Cross headquarters at Mountainview Church. As they rode toward the church in the van, Amelia sat beside a young woman, who was probably still in her teens.
“Hi, I’m Vicky Lanham,” the girl said. “I live in Ohio, near Columbus. Our church keeps a semitrailer outfitted for emergencies like this. Two of our members brought the truck to the area, but I took a plane into Charleston. I’ve never seen anything like the destruction we saw from the ‘copter.”
“I work for the American Red Cross in Philadelphia,” Amelia answered. “I usually stay in the office and handle the paperwork, but I volunteered to come onsite, and here I am.” She paused, wondering if her doubts were apparent to the young woman, but then continued. “I’m not sure what I’ve gotten myself into.”
“It’s gonna be a lot of hard work, but my parents prodded me into coming,” Vicky said. “I think God is calling me to be a missionary, and Dad said that some primitive living and hard work here will be a good introduction to what I can expect on the mission field. Why did you volunteer?”
“I’m not sure,” Amelia admitted. “I just had the overwhelming belief that I should take this assignment.”
“Maybe God was pushing you, just like my parents prodded me.”
Amelia laughed. “You might have a point there. It will be good for us to gain a new understanding of how God’s work is accomplished on the raw side of life.”
The van labored up the steep incline and stopped before a sprawling, two-story stone church building. “If this is our headquarters, life can’t be too bad. By the way, my name is Amelia Stone, and I’m looking forward to working with you.”
The church was built on a mountain above the floodplain, and the Red Cross had opened a service center in the building. After the volunteers had introduced themselves, the director of Red Cross operations in the region—a tall, gangly man in his fifties—assigned Vicky and Amelia to jobs immediately.
“I’m Rick Smith,” he said. “And you’re as welcome here as the flowers in May.” To Vicky, he said, “Your church’s truck has arrived, even though the men had to take a roundabout route to get here. We’ll start handing out the supplies they brought as soon as you get settled.”
“I have my laptop, so I can set up shop wherever you want me to,” Amelia said.
“Good,” Rick said. “Let’s go into the gymnasium. That’s where the men from Ohio are unloading their supplies. Three dozen flood victims stayed here last night. You can start processing their applications for help right away.”
Vicky and Amelia preceded him into the crowded gym, and tears of compassion stung Amelia’s eyes when she saw the bedraggled people staring at them. The elderly, the middle-aged and several children sat quietly in the room, no evidence of hope in their bleak eyes.
God, she prayed silently. These people have lost everything except You. Be very near them today. Use me as Your instrument to bring peace to their hearts.
Amelia sat at the folding table Rick Smith brought and started her computer. While she waited for her programs to appear on the screen, her fingers drummed idly on the table as she glanced around the large room. Two men were carrying buckets, mops, brooms, cartons of bottled water and cartons of cleaning supplies into the gym. Amelia surmised that they were the men from Vicky’s church.
A quick breath of astonishment burst from Amelia’s lips as she took a closer look at one of the men. Even his back looked familiar. He could be a Red Cross representative she’d met before, though she thought the recognition went beyond that.
As she watched, the man turned, and a shock of disbelief shattered her composure. Although his fair, wavy hair was silvering a bit at the temples, and the years had etched deeper lines on his face, there was no mistaking the classic features and clear gray eyes of Chase Ramsey. Imagine meeting him again after fifteen years!
Amelia’s stomach knotted and she shuddered inwardly. She lowered her eyes, hoping Chase wouldn’t recognize her.
God, I’m not ready for this. If Chase is the reason You brought me to West Virginia, I’m ready to go home now.
Amelia had thought she’d put the past behind her, but obviously, she needed more time to erase the grief Chase had caused her. And she was suddenly overcome with a sense of loss when she considered that, in all probability, Chase might be married.
Chase Ramsey straightened from placing a large carton of bottled water on the floor. He waved at Vicky, and his gaze rested on the woman beside her as he turned to bring in another load of supplies. He stopped in his tracks. Instantly aware of his scrutiny, Amelia looked up, and recognition dawned in his eyes. He walked quickly across the room.
“Of all places to meet you!” Chase said as he reached for Amelia’s hand. The surprise in his eyes was replaced by pleasure as he admired Amelia. Still as beautiful as ever, he thought, wondering if he should have been more discreet. Remembering her harsh words at their last encounter, he realized that Amelia might not share his joy in this meeting.
Amelia was still a graceful woman, of medium height in her early forties. She held her well-formed body erect. Heavy brown hair surrounded her pale golden skin, and she looked at him with enormous dark eyes. Her lips parted in a slight smile, but the smile didn’t reach her eyes. Amelia had always worn expensive clothes, and Chase thought she looked like a harbinger of spring in her sea-green pants suit and floral print blouse.
Amelia placed her hand in his, saying calmly, “Hello, Chase.” She hoped he wasn’t aware of the anxiety and frustration churning in her stomach.
Rick Smith and Vicky watched this reunion, and Rick said, “Apparently you’ve met before.”
“Guess you could say that,” Chase said, grinning broadly. “Have you been introduced? Rick, this is Amelia…” He paused, and looked questioningly at Amelia’s left hand.
“It’s still Stone,” she said with an unreadable expression.
“Well, a lot could have happened since I’ve seen you, so I didn’t know.”
“I’ve already met Rick, and Vicky, too,” she said.
“Do you live in this area, Amelia?”
