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Unanswered Prayers
Penny Richards
THE TEST OF A MARRIAGEEva Carmichael was talented, beautiful…the girl everyone believed most likely to succeed. When she left her hometown for a new life, she never expected to one day find herself alone and pregnant, her world in ashes.But the Lord never closes a door without opening a window…. For years the young minister Howard Blake have loved Eva from afar. Now he offered to marry her. But Eva had never imagined herself as a minister's wife. And even if they survived the small-town gossips, could their marriage ever grow into the light of love?Welcome to Love Inspired™–stories that will lift your spirits and gladden your heart. Meet men and women facing the challenges of today's world and learning important lessons about life, faith and love.
Table of Contents
Cover Page (#uac16e7ec-557c-546e-9132-5fa7201076bc)
Excerpt (#u4c3628fe-a3bc-5e99-8b82-26060276c50d)
About the Author (#u44cecad8-6cde-56d0-906e-7deeb0191472)
Title Page (#u47e63dc7-0428-557b-bc97-4b6765f9b3d2)
Epigraph (#uc9053032-7696-587a-8098-c3d7988022eb)
Chapter One (#ue977f9b6-2c6a-5436-bd36-5dd0aae1d1dd)
Chapter Two (#u5b348f1d-8f1a-5053-941b-9284d106648c)
Chapter Three (#u9aa3fe06-fd4f-5adf-8411-6c5ede294bb6)
Chapter Four (#litres_trial_promo)
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)
Dear Reader (#litres_trial_promo)
Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)
“I’ll be a good husband, Evie…”
He came to a stop in front of her and took her cold hands in his. His eyes glowed with sincerity and determination. “And a good father to your baby. I promise you that I’ll love it like it’s my own.”
“But why, Howard?” she asked. “Why would you want to saddle yourself with a…a…pregnant woman and a baby that isn’t yours? What’s in this noble gesture for you?”
“I’d have a chance to do something worthwhile by helping you put your life back in order.”
“You want to marry me because you want to do something worthwhile?” Eva shook her head. “Don’t you think that’s taking the Good Samaritan bit a little too far?”
“It has nothing to do with my being noble or a Good Samaritan,” Howard asserted in a voice that straddled the fence between anger and hurt. “I’m offering to marry you because I love you.”
“You what!”
“I love you…I have for a long time.”
PENNY RICHARDS
has been an active member of her church for more than thirty years. She’s sung for weddings and funerals, led ladies’ class discussions and home Bible studies. Though she’s taught Bible classes for various ages, she confesses to liking five-year-olds best because of their openness and honesty.
Through the efforts of a good friend, Penny was involved with the parish jail ministry for approximately two years. She recalls clearly the first time she went into a cell and heard the sound of several doors slamming shut and locking behind her. She’s often thought that that frightening feeling of being cut off from safety is infinitesimal compared to what it would feel like to be cut off from God’s love and mercy. It was during her time of participating in the jail ministry that she began to understand why Jesus fraternized with sinners: it’s impossible to reach others with a “holier-thanthou” attitude.
Penny likes writing about all kinds of relationships, and hopes her writing shows readers that no matter what the situation, God is in control and that His grace truly should be sufficient.
The author and her husband have been married for almost thirty-five years. They have two sons and a daughter, and eight grandchildren-six boys and two girls.
Unanswered Prayers
Penny Richards
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
“And we know that all things work together for good to them that love God.”
—Romans 8:28
Chapter One (#ulink_502a0dc0-7b9d-506b-bc92-950b88c2caf9)
“There’s Miss High and Mighty, herself.”
The feminine, sibilant whisper carried down the aisle, transmitted on the deodorized air. Maggie Langley, who had stopped her supermarket buggy in front of the ice cream section, was too engrossed in planning the impromptu celebration of her two-month-old marriage to Rio Langley to pay the comment any mind.
She and Rio had been so busy since they got married, they hadn’t had much time for fun-or romance. But tonight would be different, Maggie silently vowed.
A willful smile curved her mouth. If anything could take her mind off the upcoming appointment with her gynecologist in Austin the following day, it was a romantic evening with the man she loved…
“Just look at her! Don’t she think she’s somethin’ in that fancy outfit!”
Outfit. Hmm. She would wear that satin cocktail dress she’d picked up on sale for New Year’s Eve and never had the courage to put on. Forget the ice cream. She’d play soft music and have candles-lots of candles.
“Shush. She’ll hear.”
“Don’t shush me. She ain’t no better’n the rest of us, married to that half-breed! Why, even his own father wouldn’t claim him. And now she’s tryin’ to tell the rest of us how to raise our kids? That’s a hoot, now idn’t it?”
Hearing the word half-breed alerted Maggie to the fact that the woman was talking about her. She froze, as stiff and unyielding as the container of ice cream in her hands.
“I said shush up,” cautioned the other voice. “She’ll hear, and besides, he did marry her.”
“Well, whoop-de-dang-do!” the harpy said, in a voice that dripped sarcasm. “That broke-down rodeo rider ain’t no prize.”
Maggie was too shocked to realize that her hands were stinging with cold. Hot color scalded her face, but it wasn’t the heat of shame or embarrassment. It was anger. Fury, in fact.
Having grown up with a preacher father, in a family whose very cornerstone was love, it was hard for her to imagine how anyone could be so self-righteous, not to mention bigoted. Every time she confronted either attitude, she grew angry-and more than a little sad. Gossip was as much a part of Crystal Creek as its small-town friendliness, but Maggie wasn’t sure she’d ever get used to it. Didn’t these women have any idea how much potential pain their comments carried?
She wondered if she should confront the spiteful woman or pretend she hadn’t heard the unkind comments. She didn’t care what was said about her, but Rio had suffered enough during his life for being a “halfbreed” born out of wedlock with no father in sight. She wanted to march over to the woman and inform her that whatever Rio Langley’s heritage might be, he was a good man, one who didn’t have to boost his self-esteem by hurting other people. He was kind and generous, with a heart as big as the state they lived in.
Drawing in another quivering breath, Maggie cast a sideways look at the two women. A gasp of shock escaped her. Fran Dunbarr and Ada Farmer! Why, they were both women she saw often in her capacity as a social worker.
Fran’s daughter, Chrissie, who was marginally retarded from an oxygen depletion at birth, had two illegitimate children, and Ada’s husband, Bull, was an alcoholic who battered his family on a regular basis.
Like many abused women, Ada refused to press charges, and her unwillingness to get help was affecting her children. Her seventeen-year-old son, Rick, had experienced several minor brushes with the law the past year. Most recently, he and his buddies had gained notoriety for taking turns shooting at a neighbor’s dog with a .22 rifle.
Though he denied pulling the trigger, Rick was now on six months’ probation. Feeling he needed something to occupy his time and keep him away from the negative influence of the boys he hung out with, Maggie and the county psychologist had suggested an after-school job.
Unfortunately, even if Bull Farmer’s reputation hadn’t extended to his son, news of the dog shooting made prospective employers wary. When no one would hire the boy, Rio had seen Maggie’s dilemma and offered Rick a job at the ranch, assuring her that he and his brother, Jeremy, could always use another hand with the stock. Since Rick didn’t have transportation, Rio even hauled the boy back and forth to work.
And this was the thanks he got. Slurs and name calling. The urge to reciprocate rose in Maggie on a dark wave of indignation. Angry words trembled on her tongue. Her hands shook; the cooler of ice cream wavered through the sheen of her tears.
Be not overcome of evil, but overcome evil with good. The familiar passage from Romans came to her so clearly, her father might have been standing next to her. Heap coals of fire. Turn the other cheek. Pray for your enemies. All avenues of behavior she’d grown up hearing and done her best to incorporate into her life.
A staunch belief in God and His word was Howard Blake’s answer to everything, which, Maggie supposed, was the good and right way to deal with life’s problems. But her husband Greg’s senseless death had weakened her faith in God’s wisdom, and finding Rio’s love was the only thing that had given it back.
Maybe she was just more like her mama than she was her daddy—not that Eva Blake was anything but the perfect minister’s wife. But, as her mother often said, Howard had been born good; she had to work at it. The same way Maggie did.
Maggie set the ice cream down as carefully as if it were a vial of nitroglycerin. She uttered a little prayer, lifted her chin and, plastering a bright, false smile on her face, turned and gipped the handle of her grocery cart.
“Fran! Ada!” she exclaimed, heading toward the women as if she’d just noticed them. “How are you?”
She had the satisfaction of seeing Fran’s narrow face pale and the brief flickering of shame in Ada’s dark, birdlike eyes.
“I’m fine, Miz Langley, and you?” Ada said, careful to keep her gaze averted.
“Very well, thanks. How’s Rick?”
Ada looked as if the question surprised her. “Why, uh, he’s fine.”
Overcome evil with good, Maggie, remember?
“That’s great,” she said with a gentle smile. “My husband says he’s a conscientious worker. He doesn’t know much about animals, but he’s willing to learn.”
The few words of praise brought a flush of pleasure and pride to Ada’s sallow face. Maggie was suddenly glad she’d reacted to the situation the way she had. She wondered how long it had been since Ada had heard anything good about her son, and realized what a shame it was that Rick was branded a loser simply because of his father. The stereotyping was no more fair than the stigma Rio had carried on his shoulders while growing up in Crystal Creek, Texas.
“Ain’t you gonna ask about Chrissie?” Fran said with a sniff and a look of disapproval down her narrow nose.
Maggie smiled politely. “I was just about to. How is she?”
“Pukin’ up her guts.”
“Oh,” Maggie said in concern. “Don’t-tell me she’s picked up that virus that’s going around.”
Fran shook her head. “Nope. She’s pregnant agin.”
Maggie couldn’t disguise her horror-or her dismay. Chrissie’s baby was only five months old.
“Oh, Fran! Why didn’t she use the birth control pulls the health clinic provided?”
“‘Cause Delbert was sick and Billy Don was workin’ over’t the quarry. She didn’t have no way to get there.”
Billy Don was generally presumed to be the father of Chrissie’s daughter, though by her own admission she couldn’t be sure.
“She could have called me,” Maggie said. “I’d have been glad to take her.”
“I’ll ‘member that next time,” Fran said.
Next time. When would that be? Maggie wondered. Seven or so months from now? “Is there anything I can do?” she offered, feeling somehow responsible. Even though she knew that she and the system could only do so much, and that there came a time a person had to help himself, Maggie felt as if she’d failed the Dunbarrs.
“You might bring her some of them candies she likes so well,” Fran said. “Can’t get them with food stamps, you know, and she’s been cravin’ them something terrible. Them candies and Co’-Colas.”
Candy and Cokes. Maggie started to tell Fran that Chrissie needed well-balanced meals, but realized that the advice would be not only resented but ignored.
“I’ll see what I can do,” she said. Fighting a feeling of futility, she glanced at her watch. “Oh my!” She feigned surprise. “It’s later than I thought! I’ve got to run. I’ll see you in a couple of weeks, ladies, OK?”
Without waiting for their answer, Maggie wheeled her grocery buggy around and started back down the aisle. She’d get her flowers and, as her Uncle Bud often said, get the heck out of Dodge.
Rio, his brother Jeremy and Rick were moving a pen full of broncs from one pasture to another. Rio sat the saddle easily as the horses meandered down the wide aisle between pens; his younger brother and Rick less so. Babydoll, Rio’s blue heeler, a recent gift from Maggie, trotted along by his gelding’s side, veering off to nip at a straggler’s heels at Rio’s command.
While Rio watched, a particularly ornery mare whirled and kicked at the dog. Just what happened after that was anyone’s guess. There was the staccato sound of barking, a shrill whinny and a sudden dusty burst of speed from the pack of horses. Rio saw Rick’s horse rear up and heard the boy’s startled cry as he tumbled off and landed in a heap on the ground.
Before Rio could do more than wonder if the kid had been hurt—and how badly—Rick leaped to his feet. Rio gave a relieved sigh, but then, to his stunned disbelief, Rick screamed a blistering curse and aimed a vicious kick at the dog’s ribs. Babydoll yelped and ran, cowering from the attack.
Muttering an epithet of his own, Rio slung a denimclad leg over the buckskin’s neck and slid from his broad back, stalking toward his young charge. Before he got to Rick, the boy had whipped off his belt and was about to flail Babydoll.
Rio grabbed the belt just in time. Falling off a horse was no excuse for abusing the dog. Radiating fury, he snatched the leather strap from Rick’s hands.
The sudden action caught Rick off guard. Confronted with the rage on Rio’s face, he stumbled back a step. Rio folded the belt and took a step toward Rick, who raised his arms and ducked his head in a protective gesture that said more than words ever could.
Rio stopped dead still, his anger at the boy draining away like the waters of the Claro River when they’d built the dam several years back. There was little doubt that Bull Farmer was at the root of Rick’s fear. A new spark of anger flared inside Rio.
Jeremy trotted up on his mare. Without taking his gaze off Rick, Rio said, “Go ahead and move the horses, Jeremy.”
Though Jeremy hadn’t known of his brother’s existence until a few short months ago, he already knew better than to interfere when Rio used that hard, clipped tone of voice. Without a word, he wheeled the mare and followed the string of broncs now meandering calmly between the woven wire fences.
“It’s all right, Rick,” Rio said, his voice low and soothing.
Cautiously Rick lowered his arms. The expression in his eyes was that wild, panicky look an animal had when it was caught in a trap and knew there was no way out. Which was exactly what Rick Farmer and the rest of his family were. Trapped. Trapped in a hell of Bull Farmer’s making.
