LITMIR.BIZ

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Aunt Hilda told her.

      “You seem so sure. How can you do that—let go and just believe?”

      Hilda waved a hand in the air. “Look around us. This is my Father’s garden. He created all of this. He created you and me. And because He loved us so much that He was willing to send His son to give us everlasting life, I have to trust that no matter what happens to me, good or bad, God will be there to comfort and sustain me.”

      Willa thought about her future. She might be facing some very uncomfortable, life-altering things. And what if the worst did happen? Who would she have to turn to? Who would she have to trust?

      “It would be nice to know that kind of assurance and comfort, no matter what.”

      Hilda sat silent for a minute, then said, “All you have to do in order to receive those gifts, those assurances, is accept. Accept that God will see you through.” Then she took Willa’s hands in hers and smiled.

      By the time Lucas found them there, they were laughing and talking like old friends. It burned him to no end that Willa seemed to be having a great time with his aunt while he suffered in silent misery. But he hid that unwarranted jealousy behind his usual carefree manner.

      Leaning into the open gazebo with a flourish, he asked, “Now what are you two whispering about, out here in the dark?” Fanning at his ear, he added, “With nasty mosquitoes gnawing at your heads.”

      Aunt Hilda lifted up off the bench, her hand tightly encircling Willa’s. Willa stood, but Lucas noticed she looked different somehow. Almost…peaceful.

      And she also looked as if she’d been crying.

      “Lucas, Willa is coming to church with us Sunday,” Aunt Hilda said, beaming.

      Lucas whistled low, then shot his aunt a loving but quizzical look. Then he studied Willa’s face. “She got to you, didn’t she, jolie fille?”

      But before Willa could answer, Aunt Hilda shook her head. “Not me. Apparently, it was you. You and your saxophone. She liked the song you played. It touched her.” She held a hand to her heart. “It touched her here, Lucas.”

      Lucas shut up his whining and stared in amazement at Willa. She did seem different. “Is that true?”

      Willa’s eyes went wide. “Your music, Lucas…It was so beautiful, so perfect. I don’t know…I just walked and walked and I wound up here and then Aunt Hilda found me—”

      “And we had a good heart-to-heart talk,” Aunt Hilda said, filling in the blanks. “A good soul talk.”

      “Le coeur a ses raisons,” Lucas replied dryly, wondering why he couldn’t have been the one to break Willa’s code of silence.

      “Yes,” Aunt Hilda said, nodding, “the heart does indeed have its reasons. And humans also have reasons for not opening our hearts to the abundant love in front of us.”

      “Is this a quiz?” Lucas asked, frustration dripping like Spanish moss from each word, his gaze still on Willa.

      She looked more at peace, but she also looked as if she didn’t want to talk to him.

      “No,” Aunt Hilda replied, smug and proper. “But you might want to relax and figure things out for yourself. Everything comes to pass in God’s own good time, Lucas.”

      He ran a hand through his tattered curls. “Oui, but I’m tired of waiting for that good time to come.”

      His aunt stepped forward on tiptoes to give him a kiss. Lucas bent to receive the show of affection, his eyes moving over Willa.

      “I’m going to turn in now, children,” Aunt Hilda told them. “This has been a good night. A very good night.”

      She was still chuckling as she went off down the path.

      “Shouldn’t you help her to the house?” Willa asked, her voice strangely quiet.

      “She would refuse my help. She has her pride.” He gave her a sideways glance. “Besides, she’s walking on air from saving another lost soul.”

      “She has been a tremendous help to me,” Willa replied, her head bent. “At least, she’s made me see that with God’s help, I might be able to come to some conclusions about my life.”

      Lucas couldn’t be angry for that. “Then I’m happy for you.”

      Willa caught his hand in hers. “I want you to be—happy, that is.”

      Casse pas mon coeur. He didn’t say the words out loud, but he wanted to. He wanted to tell her, Then don’t break my heart.

      He gave an eloquent shrug, then pulled his hand from hers. “I’m happy. Completely happy.” For about three seconds, he stood there, a hand on his hip. Then he pivoted toward her. “That’s not the truth. I’m not happy. I used to think I was. But that was last week, before I saw you standing in my gardens.”

      Willa held her head down. “See, I’ve already made you regret—”

      He pulled her close then, needing answers, wondering how she could tell his aunt things she had yet to tell him. “I don’t regret meeting you. I only regret that you can’t trust me the way you seem to trust my dear aunt. I want you to share with me the things you just told her.”

      “I didn’t tell her anything, Lucas.”

      “You didn’t?”

      “No. We talked…about God. About me.” She stopped, sucked in a breath. “Something happened here. Something I can’t explain.”

      And then she burst into tears and fell into his arms.

      Chapter Eight

      Lucas held Willa tightly to him, the sound of her sobs echoing like a siren’s call throughout his heart. He’d lived with three women, so he knew the effect of tears on a man. They could bring down Goliath.

      But right now, he felt more like David with the slingshot. Terrified, but determined.

      “What’s the matter, love?” he asked, hoping she wouldn’t hear how his voice shook.

      Willa pulled away, wiping tears from her face as she stared at him. “Your aunt is such a remarkable woman.”

      “Obviously,” he said on a dry note. “Since she brought you to tears.”

      “She did,” Willa admitted, smiling through her anguish. “But I’m not upset.”

      “Oh, really. You’re crying like a child, but you’re not upset?” Lucas scratched his head in wonder. “You’re gonna have to explain this to me.”

      Willa tilted her head, then clasped her hands in front of her. “Your aunt made me feel so much better about so many things. She wants me to know the Lord, Lucas.”

      He had to smile at that. Aunt Hilda was a fierce prayer warrior, a crusader for all that was good and right. It didn’t surprise him one bit that she’d gently urged Willa to find her way home again. Aunt Hilda could pick a stray out of crowd a mile away. But she could also bring that stray into the fold with love and tenderness and open arms.

      “Aunt Hilda is like an angel here on earth,” he said, his voice low and reverent. “She certainly took me under her wing.”

      Willa reached out a hand to touch his cheek. “It must have been so awful. Coming here to this strange, new place. Knowing your parents were gone forever.”

      He closed his eyes, leaned into her warm hand. “It was tough, for true. But she made things so…soft-focused and steady. She never dwelled on the loss of my parents, but she was always willing to listen to us when we had questions or when we were frightened.” He felt a shudder running down his spine. “Lorna had nightmares—has had them all of her life. And Lacey…she just built up this wall like a shield. She’s buried it all so deeply, I don’t

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