Authors: Catherine Palmer
“Are you planning to answer the door?” Jan had cocked her head to one side like a parakeet. That’s what she was, too, a bouncy little bird just waiting to produce some sort of pithy quotation or some pert observation about Miles.
“Beth, sweetie? Miles is knocking.”
Deep breath. Shoulders back. Chin up. She would take care of this so she and her mother could get back to the real matter at hand.
Beth walked to the door and peered through the peephole. And there he was. Looking just like he always did. Too good. Too British. Too handsome.
She turned the knob and willed her mouth into a smile. “Miles. What a surprise.”
He stepped inside the room, turned to her and took her shoulders in his hands. “Beth, please listen to me.” His voice was raspy, forcing out the words. “I’m sorry to come to you like this without warning. Very improper. Highly irregular, I know. Malcolm urged me not to come, but I had to. Beth, I love you. I do. I’ve tried not to, but I simply cannot change what is true and right. I beg you not to think me mad.
“Since Darjeeling, I have been in absolute and utter agony. Let me say, before you throw me out, that I do realize I’m perfectly wrong for you. I don’t deserve you, I could never deserve you and moreover, I am quite convinced I shall never have you. But nothing can be done about the fact that I must try to convince you to love me in return.
“Now, if I were you, trust me, I’d run in the opposite direction as quickly as I could. Knowing myself as I do, I can honestly tell you that any woman in her right mind—as you obviously are—would be a fool to seriously care the slightest whit about me. I fancy myself dashing and charming. But I am actually nothing. Nothing but rot. A dustbin full of rot. I know this, I see it, I admit it.
“I’m determined to change myself, but at this precise moment, I’ve not accomplished it. I believe change has something to do with God and morality and Bible reading and several other important issues, which are unfortunately rather vague to me. But this realization of my need to change is why, dearest Beth, I left you alone in Darjeeling—a wrong and boorish thing to do. I apologize, and I mean to make amends if you’ll allow it. But I must say that as desperately as I do love you and wish to transform myself into a man worthy of your affection and admiration—”
“Enough!” Beth covered his mouth with her hand. “Stop talking, Miles. You make me crazy.”
“Darling, please give me one chance.” He took both her hands in his. “I love you. Love can alter a man, no matter how far off the mark he may be. Thomas tells me God must do the changing, which I am fully willing to allow. In fact, I—”
“Wait.” Beth held up a hand. “Thomas Wood told you to change?
My
Thomas Wood?”
“We speak regularly by phone, and he does have excellent advice—though I fear my ability to follow it is limited. But please, you must permit me to try to win you, Beth. Can you do that?”
She gave a groan of exasperation. “Miles, turn around and meet my mother.” With a shove on one shoulder, she pivoted him toward the window. “Mom, this madman from England is Miles Wilson. Miles, this is my mother, Jan Lowell.”
Beth watched as her mother rose from the sofa and fairly glided across the floor. “Miles.” She held out her hand. “So pleased to meet Beth’s young man. My daughter has told me a great deal about you.”
“No, I haven’t. Mom!”
Jan smiled at her daughter. “You didn’t mention that Miles was so passionate.”
“I beg your pardon, Mrs. Lowell. The previous conversation…it was intended for Beth.”
“I could tell.” Jan gestured toward the sofa. “Won’t you sit down, Miles? I believe Beth told me she had made some fresh lemonade for my visit. Maybe she’ll remember her manners and pour us each a glass.”
Beth watched as her mother led Miles across the room. This was not supposed to happen! Why was her mom suddenly acting like a Southern belle? Why was Miles blurting out long speeches that made no sense? Had she remembered to put sugar in the lemonade?
From behind the kitchen counter, Beth watched as her mother chatted with Miles Wilson. They might as well be on some porch in Texas the way the woman smiled and tilted her head and said interesting things in her honeyed Southern accent. In the past ten minutes, Miles had gone from impassioned to stunned to utterly beguiled. As Beth stirred ice into the pitcher, she could see the man relax, stretching out across the chair like a panther on a tree limb, gesturing as he shared some fascinating detail with her mother.
Great. The pair of them had charmed the socks off each other immediately. No doubt Jan would insist that Miles go out to dinner with them. And Miles would want to hear all about Beth’s plans for her mother’s artwork. He would admire the pastel chalk children and say amusing British things, which would tickle Jan pink. Before long, they would be the best of chums, and Beth would have to figure a way to pry Miles loose so she could kick him out the door and back to London.
As she set three glasses on a tray, Beth thought about his speech to her at the door. Let’s see. He loved her. He wasn’t worthy of her. He wanted to change. He thought God was the answer, but he hadn’t figured out how. He’d been talking regularly to Thomas Wood.
Now that last part was really annoying! Beth had finally found Thomas, and he belonged to her. What right did Miles have to ask him for advice? Thomas’s loyalties were supposed to lie with his daughter, not with this upstart…dashing…crazy…adorable…
“Lemonade,” she announced, grabbing the tray and nearly slinging the glasses to the floor as she rounded the counter and headed for the coffee table in front of the sofa. “Freshly squeezed lemons, cold water, ice, lots of sugar. And a twist.”
“What?” Jan’s head shot up in surprise. “What have you done to my lemonade?”
“Made it mine.” She set the tray on the low table. “Taste it.”
Her mother gingerly took a glass and sipped. “Mint!” she exclaimed. “Fresh mint! I never thought the old recipe could get any better, but here you are, sweetheart…tinkering with it. Miles, try some. You won’t believe how good it is.”
Beth settled onto the sofa beside her mother as Miles drank long and deep. When he had drained the glass, he set it on the tray, let out a breath and pronounced, “Excellent.”
Jan laughed. “Well, Beth, you’ve won him over. And me, too. I’ll put mint in my next batch. Jim Blevins will wonder what’s come over me.”
“How is Jim?” Beth asked.
“Shocked to pieces that I would fly all the way to New York to see you. He didn’t think I had it in me. But he’s quite a few years older, you know. I’m only forty-five. A woman my age has a lot of life left.”
“That’s why you came, Mrs. Lowell?” Miles inquired. “You’re ready to start living again? Phase Two, so to speak?”
Beth glanced at her mother in alarm. But Jan was still smiling. “It’s my daughter’s fault,” she said. “I was ready to settle into my cocoon and never come out. I’d raised my children, worked long enough to retire, enjoyed a happy marriage and buried my husband. It may sound crazy, but I figured I was next, and it was just a matter of waiting around.”
“Then Beth discovered the tea set,” Miles stated. “And that brought you back to life.”
“Oh, no. Not the tea set. It was Beth and her faith. She kept quoting the Bible to me and reminding me of this and that about the Christian life. My daughter can be very persistent. You ought to be made aware of that if you’re so sure you’re in love with her. Beth just kept challenging me.”
“Making you feel as if you needed to get back in the race, eh?”
“Get
back
in the race? I’ve been watching from the sidelines most of my life. I’m a Christian, and I believe all the right things. But I never thought about actually having any responsibility to God other than raising a good family and being a moral person. I wanted to do
my
will—which was to be safely tucked away in Tyler, Texas, with my own little family and my own little life until Saint Peter called me to the pearly gates. Then my daughter started living her life in front of me….”
“She did that to me, too,” Miles said. “It’s why I adore her.”
Beth took a quick drink of lemonade. This was strange. Unnerving. She’d merely been doing what she thought all believers ought to do—and, in truth, she hadn’t been particularly good at it. Yelling at her mother. Stressed out about work. Unsettled and nervous every time she so much as thought of Miles Wilson. Christians were supposed to bear the fruit of the Holy Spirit—love, patience, gentleness, long-suffering…Not shouting, floundering, worrying…
“Your daughter makes me want to change, Mrs. Lowell,” Miles was saying. “I can’t go on living the way I was. But I’m not quite certain what sort of man I’m to be.”
“Neither am I. I haven’t found the blueprint for Phase Two. And please call me Jan.”
“Let’s ask Beth, shall we?” Miles said. He turned his blue eyes on her. “You’ve told us that Christians are meant to become new creatures in Christ. We’re to change. How?”
“Well, for pity’s sake, don’t look at me!” Beth exclaimed, rising to her feet and pacing toward the wall where the Murphy bed was hidden behind a panel. “I don’t know how to change anyone. That’s the job of the Holy Spirit. You’re supposed to read the Bible and try to pattern your life after Christ. That’s what I do, and I’m pretty horrible at it, actually, so I wish the two of you would quit using me as your example of Christian perfection. I’m just a regular person—”
“No, you’re not,” Jan said.
“You glow.” Miles was nodding as he spoke. “I heard it in your voice in the Nairobi Airport, and then I saw it on your face.”
“I’m glowing right now, because I really do wish that both of you would just…just…”
The phone rang, and Beth could have kissed it. She excused herself and grabbed the receiver. “Beth Lowell,” she said.
“Beth, it’s Joe. Something’s come up at work.”
“I’m off this week, Joe. Remember? My mom is here from Texas. We’re going to do the sights and try to market her artwork. I told you that. If there’s a problem, talk to Sean. I’ve trained him, and I’m confident that he’s capable of handling things there until I get back.”
“It’s Congo, Beth.”
“What about it?”
“Haven’t you seen the news? There’s an uprising in the works. Maybe a full-fledged coup. It’s looking like Kinshasa may go down in the next few days. The U.S. government is moving all its people out, and companies we worked with in the past have been calling us night and day for the last forty-eight hours. They want to try to transfer as much employee property out of the capital as they can, but they’re even more concerned about moving personnel. Some companies are sending people to Kenya, and others are trying to put them in Europe to wait it out. That toothpaste factory we worked with wants to send their top dogs to Uganda.”
“Uganda? So, what are these companies needing from us—the names of hotels?” Beth grabbed her black leather bag from its usual place by the sofa and opened the clasps. She slid her computer onto her lap and brought it to life. “How many people are we talking about moving, Joe? And why do they want us?”
“They want
you.
You moved a lot of these families safely into place in Congo, and now they want you to get them safely out.”
“I can’t move people out of a country in the middle of a coup. That’s not even close to my job description, Joe.”
“We’ll take care of the transportation end. You just find clean, safe, comfortable places for us to put them.”
“Kenya’s best hotels are going to cost a fortune.” She pressed a few keys and pulled up a screen. “In Uganda, I can’t guarantee the quality. Which countries in Europe do they want to use? If the unrest runs into the start of the school year, it’s going to really mess up the children. These companies can’t just toss kids around from one country to another.”
“Well, they certainly can’t leave them in Congo to get shot at with AK47s. If they fly everyone to the States and the coup fizzles out, then the companies have to bear the cost of getting their people back in place again. And you know how these uprisings work. The deal could blow up and then be over, and things could be stable again in a month.”
“All right, I’ll be at the office in twenty minutes. What can I…” Beth lifted her head to find her mother and Miles Wilson staring at her.
J
an didn’t know when she’d ever had so much fun. She and Miles were headed up the elevator to Beth’s apartment when the realization hit. She loved New York!
“What’s so amusing?” he asked as she unsuccessfully stifled a laugh.
“Me. I used to think I was old. I thought I was shy. I thought I was scared to try new things.”
“You?” He grinned. “I’ve never met anyone quite so adventurous. You’ve taken the city by storm.”
“I wouldn’t go that far.”
“The Empire State Building, the Metropolitan Museum of Art, Central Park and shopping…lots of shopping…all in one day. I’m exhausted.”
A giggle welled up inside Jan as the elevator door opened and she thought of the past four days. She’d seen so many things! Done so much! Met hundreds of people! It felt like hundreds, anyway. The only downside to the visit had been the absence of her daughter.
Poor Beth had been forced back into her office to deal with the Congo crisis. She joined Miles and Jan whenever she could, and the visits to publishers and card companies had gone much better than anyone expected. In fact, Jan wouldn’t be surprised if one of these days she got a phone call from someone asking her to illustrate a book. Or maybe they would even want to purchase the art she already had completed.
Who would have thought? A second career. A whole new life. Phase Two.
Newness, joy and giddy elation seemed to come bubbling up and out of Jan all the time. Miles said he felt happier than he had in years. Mainly it was because Beth hadn’t yet thrown him out, he claimed. But Jan thought there was something more.
She and her daughter’s young admirer had become good friends. Confidantes. Coconspirators. Jan was certain she could tell Miles almost anything. He had openly confessed his love for Beth—and his certainty that nothing could come of it. He talked of his past, the breakup of his parents’ marriage, his relationship with his brother, the importance of his work in the tea company. But more than anything, he and Jan simply had fun exploring the city together.
“I’ll see you safely inside,” Miles said as the elevator doors opened and they stepped out into the corridor. “Then I’ll pop back to my hotel, have a bath and be ready to escort Beth to dinner when she comes home. You sure you won’t join us?”
“Absolutely. You’re going to have a serious talk with her, remember? You’re going to tell her exactly how you feel—this time without the theatrics.” Jan sighed as she unlocked the apartment door. “Besides, I’m bushed. I could fall asleep on my feet.”
“Now that’s something I’d like to see.” Miles waited as Jan went inside, then he elbowed his way through the door. Loaded down with boxes and bags, he had become her personal packhorse. Though she hated to spend so much money, it was hard to resist the art shops filled with wonderful supplies. She certainly wouldn’t find such a large selection of pastel chalks anywhere in Tyler. And she had bought a set of oil paints, too, just to give them a try. Maybe she was the next Mary Cassatt. Why not?
“Have a look at this,” Miles said from the kitchenette counter. “Beth must have come home for lunch. She’s left us a note.”
“Read it to me.” Jan sagged into the overstuffed chair by the sofa, shook off her shoes and propped her feet on the coffee table.
“‘Dear Mom and Miles,’” he read. “‘Thomas called from India this morning. He has decided to take some time off next week, and he wants me to meet him. Since I’ve lost most of this vacation to the Congo problem, Joe is giving me a break. Thomas has booked us a couple of rooms at a bed-and-breakfast in London. He said he’d like to see Miles. Thought I’d let Tweedledum and Tweedledee put their heads together and think on this before I get home. Love, Beth.’”
Miles set the note back on the countertop and looked at Jan. “Tweedledum and Tweedledee? Is that you and me?”
She shrugged. “I guess so.”
“Not sure I fancy being Tweedledum.”
“Just exactly why are they meeting
now?
” Jan demanded, surging up from the chair in a burst of energy. “So soon after Darjeeling. It sounds like Thomas is pushing her. He wants Beth to spend her free time with him instead of with me. We’ve hardly seen her this week, and off she goes to London!”
“My dear Jan, Beth isn’t choosing Thomas over you,” Miles assured her. “He has some holiday time, and he wants to see his daughter. That’s reasonable.”
“Why London? Why doesn’t he come to New York, if he wants to see Beth so badly? He’s never done a thing for the child, and now he’s making her fly all the way across the Atlantic again. It’s not fair. That man is so self-centered! Look at me—I came to New York, didn’t I? I saw Beth’s apartment and her office. I wanted to be part of my daughter’s life and experience her world. But Thomas—he expects Beth to bend to his wishes, and you know what? That’s how he always was. He didn’t care…he was so…oh, I don’t know, I wish he would just leave us alone, stop interfering—”
She covered her eyes with her hands and turned to the window. No, she would not cry. Not on this day, after so much fun, and with sacks full of pastels and oil paints, and visions of Van Gogh, Picasso and Renoir floating in her head….
“Mrs. Lowell—Jan,” Miles said. “Beth adores you. She knows you love her, and you gave her a wonderful childhood. But now you need to grant her permission to spend time with the man who helped to create her.”
“The only thing Thomas Wood contributed was his DNA!” Jan snapped. Then her shoulders sagged. “No, that’s wrong. I didn’t let him know about the baby, so how could he do anything for her? It’s all my fault. If Beth wants Thomas, how can I blame her? How can I blame him?”
“Do you feel betrayed?”
Jan rested her head on the cool glass windowpane. “I guess I do. But I’m not sure why.”
“What would Beth tell us to do about these obstacles in our path? You and Thomas and your unsettled past. My impossible love for an unreachable woman.” He laid a hand on Jan’s shoulder. “What would that glowing light say to Tweedledum and Tweedledee?”
She wiped her damp cheeks. “Some Bible verse, no doubt.”
He stepped away, sat down on the sofa and patted the chair across from it. “Beth would tell us to run the race that is set before us. She would encourage us to forgive those who’ve hurt us and embrace God.”
“I’m pretty sure I forgave Thomas years ago, but I’m not sure he can ever forgive me for what I did to him. And I have no idea how to forgive myself.”
“Nor do I,” Miles said. “And the Lord knows I need forgiveness.”
Jan settled back down on the chair. “So do I. Not Thomas. Certainly not Beth. I’m the offender. I gave myself to a man who wasn’t my husband. I kept his child a secret. I hid the truth from everyone. I even made Thomas’s own parents deceive him.”
“You’re a spotless lily compared to me,” Miles said. “It’s a wonder I’m alive, honestly. Endless women. Drunken parties. Drugs. Please don’t look so shocked. I told you about the treatment center, didn’t I?”
“No,” Jan sniffled, “but how are we so different? I was awful to Thomas. You were awful to yourself.”
“What did Beth tell us last night at dinner? Our bodies are meant to be a temple?”
“The temple of the Holy Spirit.” Jan hung her head. “Our pastor used to preach about it. If you’re a Christian, then God’s Holy Spirit lives inside you. Your body is like a temple or a church. It’s a wonderful thought—one you wish you had realized the truth of before you defiled yourself.”
“Amen.” Miles dropped his head back on the sofa cushion and stared at the ceiling. “Do you suppose God can really forgive people? Do you think He can actually absolve us of our past?”
“Yes. I believe that He can, and He will.”
“So do I.”
“But I should apologize to Thomas first.” Jan wove her fingers together and squeezed. “That’s what I need to do. I can’t ask God to forgive me until Thomas has.”
“By that argument, I’ve got to locate and apologize to all the women and half the men I ever knew.”
She blew out a breath. “Never mind making amends with everyone. It’s humanly impossible to fix everything with each person we’ve hurt.”
“Then we have no choice but to accept the consequences.”
“On earth, yes. But not for eternity. We should go straight to God and ask His forgiveness for our wrong behavior. If He pardons us, and people see that we’ve changed, maybe they can forgive us, too. The main thing is to repent—to turn away from sin. That’s what Christians do.”
Miles grimaced. “I’m not certain I’m a Christian, actually. Not in the sense that Beth means it.”
“I’m a Christian, but you’d hardly know it. Either way, Miles, we have to repent. Then, you need to become a Christian, and I need to have a…oh, what did they always call it during church revivals? A recommitment. I need to recommit my life to Christ. I used to roll my eyes when people went down the aisle at church. Someone was always getting saved or recommitting their life. But that’s it, really. It’s what we ought to do.”
“Then let’s get on with it.”
Jan looked across at him…such a sweet young man with such nice blue eyes. And so in love with her daughter. What did Jan know about helping Miles become a Christian? Look at her, for pity’s sake. She was a mess. A scheming, selfish, lying, heartless creature who probably couldn’t even find John 3:16 if she had a Bible with her, which she didn’t.
Miles was staring at her. “Is it a ceremony? Do we need to go to church?”
“I think you can repent anywhere. Jesus forgave the thief who was being crucified on the cross next to His.”
“We might kneel,” Miles suggested.
In unison, they got down on their knees. Jan edged over until she was beside Miles at the sofa. They folded their hands, bent their heads and closed their eyes.
“I shall begin.” Miles’s voice was strong. “I’ve heard Beth pray, and I believe I can do it. This is something I’ve been wanting…and needing…to do for a very long time.”
“All right,” Jan said. “Go ahead.”
“Dear God. Our Father which art in heaven.” He paused. “Well, that’s not off to a very good start.”
“You’re doing all right.” Jan elbowed him. “Keep going.”
“Dear God,” he said, “this is Miles Wilson, president of the international division of Wilson Teas, Ltd. But I’m sure You knew that. Yes, of course You did. At any rate, I’m here this afternoon with Beth’s mother, recalling my past exploits, most of which were despicable. I admit that I was…and am still…among the most vile of human beings. I have used people. Women, in particular. I have also badly mistreated my body, which You gave me. In fact, dear God, I am wholly and completely flawed. I can’t think how to make up for it. There’s nothing I can do to repair the damage I’ve done to myself and to others. I’ve botched my life. I most certainly don’t deserve Your love or Your acceptance. I know very well that You came to earth on behalf of people like me. And You sacrificed Yourself. And I am…unworthy of that gift. I beg You to forgive me for everything I’ve done, even though I know I can’t right my wrongs. I ask You to please accept me as I am and convert me…transform me…change me completely into a new man. I want to be a Christian. I want to glow. Thank you. Amen.”
Jan swallowed. “I want to glow, too, Father,” she whispered. “I’m a baby Christian. I never grew up. My own daughter is older and wiser in her faith than I can ever hope to be. Thank You for Beth, Lord. Thank You for Miles. Father, I know You forgave him, and I pray that You’ll forgive me, too. I was wrong to defile my body, Your church. I was wrong to deceive Thomas. And Beth. I know I hurt John, too, in so many ways. And Nanny. I’m powerless to fix any of it, dear God, and I admit that I need You so much. Please forgive me. Please take charge of my life and transform me into a new and better woman. I want to live Phase Two for You. I ask all this in the name of Jesus Christ, my Lord and Savior. Amen.”
Unaware of the elapsing time, Jan knelt beside Miles and continued to pour out her heart to God in silence. Every sin she could remember, she confessed. Little white lies. Angry outbursts that had hurt her family. Deceptions. And especially the mess she had made of the situation with Thomas and Beth.
As she prayed, she could hear Miles beside her, sniffling. She put her arm around his shoulders. Then she handed him a tissue from her purse. This was a good man. Better than most. He had looked himself in the face and seen who he really was—unvarnished. Miles had built a facade with his charm and his wealth and his position, just as she had built one with her rose gardens, lemonade and perfect family. But he knew the truth about himself, as did she. God knew, too, and somehow in Beth’s tiny studio apartment, He had descended and filled two repentant hearts with Himself.
“We ought to do something,” Miles murmured. He lifted his head. “Something to prove it.”
Jan pushed herself up onto the sofa and rubbed her knees. “What do you mean?”
“A step of faith.” He stood and walked to the window. “I have to prove that I’m a Christian. You have to show that you’ve recommitted yourself to God. If we don’t do something, no one will know.”
“They’ll see the difference in us. In how we act and what we say. Beth shows she’s a Christian by carrying her Bible with her, by using Scripture as the filter for right and wrong, by acting so moral that…well, it’s a wonder anyone likes her.”
“I love her. It’s her morality that drew me to her. She made me want to change, because I saw myself in her eyes.”