All Good Gifts

For everything God created is good,
and nothing is to be rejected if it is received with thanksgiving,
because it is consecrated by the word of God and prayer.

1 Timothy 4:4-5 NIV

When Tess Britton goes to the northern Michigan woods to close her cabin, she is startled by a hulking figure who skulks out of the woods and changes her empty life. Ryan Walsh, too, has come north to close his sister's cabin for the winter and to contemplate how to gracefully break off a go-nowhere relationship, but just as trust and confidence blossoms, an unexpected visitor throws water on the fresh flames of romance. In the autumn setting with a Thanksgiving theme, Tess and Ryan learn they have the keys to open the doors to their hearts and to the good gifts that come from God and from a deep committed love. 

Chapter One Excerpt

Thump. Thump.

Tess Britton lowered the poker and listened while her free hand pressed against her heart. Was the sound her own throbbing pulse or something else...something outside?

She listened again.

Thump.

A shiver coursed through her. She moved to the front window and looked toward the sloped path heading to the lake. Surrounded by pine trees and a shrouded moon, Tess saw only blackness.

She shook her head at her nervous reaction and drew her shoulders upward in a calming breath. How foolish. The cabin had always served as a getaway—her sanctuary, but in the evening, the quiet, natural setting set her on edge. Even when Al had been at her side, the rustle and skitter coming from outside sent her nerves vacillating like a yo-yo.

Since she’d been widowed, her life had changed far more than jitters in the dark. She felt abandoned, deceived by Al...and by God, and her dreams and hopes had faded away like tonight’s cloud-covered moon, leaving her shrouded in unanswered questions and self-created answers that caused her guilt and fears.

Tess lifted her gaze to the sky and thought of God. How long had it been since she’d prayed? Forever, it seemed. Though black and silent, the heavens glimmered with pin pricks of stars. One glowing orb stood out among the rest, its beams stretching and glinting into the blackness. A silent hope...a prayer lifted heavenward. A prayer that something would shine in her life again.

Tess pushed herself away from the window, feeling like a child wishing on a star. Wishes and dreams had no connection with the real world. She’d gotten over Al’s death, but not the circumstances. Not the horrible reality she learned that day. Could she ever trust a man again?

Shaking her head, she returned to the fireplace and took a couple of prodding pokes, hoping to dispel the dank, gloom that surrounded her. She’d arrived in Mackinaw City at dusk and drove to the property in the woods along the shore. When she arrived, Tess walked into the damp, cold cabin, shaking from the October chill.

Now the warmth from the fireplace helped. When she turned away, instead of returning to her chair and her half-read novel, Tess headed toward the kitchen and snapped on the radio, rotating the dial and settling on the only station she could find, a combination of country music and static-–neither her favorite. She crossed to the stove and turned on the burner under the tea kettle. A warm drink would feel comforting on a chilly evening.

Tess searched through the carton she’d carried in earlier and found the cocoa mix, then grabbed a cup and spoon. As she dipped into the mixture, another ponderous thud sent her heart pumping while cocoa dust splayed across the counter and onto the floor.

"Calm down," she said aloud, pausing a moment to settle her edginess.

She cleaned up the mess, then blew a puff of pent up air from her cheeks as she plopped into her chair and flipped open her novel. Tension crept up the back of her neck to her temples becoming a throbbing headache. While Tess forced her eyes to focus on the book, she kept half an eye on the clock and half an ear on the tea kettle.

She waited and listened.

The words blurred, and aroused by the silence, she checked the clock, then the stove.

No steam. No whistle. Nothing.

She rose and touched the kettle. Lukewarm. Her spirit sank.

The propane.

Feeling self-pity, Tess bit her lower lip. She’d watched both Al and her brother switch the tanks, but she’d never paid much attention. Now she prayed she’d remember what they’d done. Someday she’d pay for a gas line.

Someday? Maybe not. A new thought had entered her mind on the three-hundred-mile trip up north. She should sell the cabin. Not that she wanted to. It just made sense. The possibility crushed her heart like a steamroller.

Facing her newest task, Tess slipped on her jacket, then grabbed a flashlight and the red toolbox from a storage cupboard. She hated feeling inept. All her life she’d been self-assured and confident...until Al’s death. Now she questioned everything. Her ability. Her wisdom. Her judgment.

Outside, the cold breeze rattled the dried leaves that crunched underfoot as she marched with fabricated confidence to the back of the cabin guided by her flashlight.

She set the toolbox on the ground, opened it and found a wrench, but when she straightened, another sound rustled in the underbrush.

Holding her breath, she paused and listened.

Porcupine? Skunk?

Too ponderous.

A Bear?

The thought quivered through her limbs. She’d heard about bears in the area.

She swung the beam into the woods, then thought better and snapped off the light as she pressed her back against the cabin and peered into the inky night.

The cabin’s cedar shakes sent a damp chill up her spine, but she clung to the wall and gaped at a hulking shape emerging from the trees. She swallowed the gasp that struggled to escape.

The strapping silhouette lumbered in her direction. Her fingers trembled against the flashlight while she gripped the wrench in the other hand, wondering how much damage the implement could do to a hungry bear.

The form drew nearer. Leaves shifted and crunched beneath its lumbering steps. Her pulse hammered in her ears.

Closer.

Her legs trembled and her prayer flew to heaven as a solution shot into her thoughts. Animals feared light. Grasping her only hope, she raised the flashlight to brandish the beam.

Instead, the dark form clasped her arm like a vice.

Tess’s scream rent the night sky accompanied by a deep baritone bellow. Her knees buckled, and an arm caught her as the flashlight and wrench tumbled to the ground.

"What are you doing?" the voice demanded.

Tess jerked away from the stranger’s clutches. She reeled backward, bracing herself against the cabin. "What are you doing? This is private property."

"Yes, I know. Who are you?" A light snapped on and aimed a precision shaft into Tess’s eyes, blinding her from the towering figure.

She threw her hand across her face to block the glare. "I’m the owner." She masked her fear, spitting out her words with as much indignation as she could muster.

When she bent to retrieve her flashlight, a wave of nausea rolled through her, and she crouched, afraid to rise.

The light followed her downward motion. "Sorry." His gruff voice softened. "Are you okay?"

"I’m fine," Tess said, swallowing the bile that crept up her throat. She rose, her own light now aimed into the face of the fearful hulk. Her pulse beat in double-time as she looked into vaguely familiar eyes.

His curiosity faded to concern. "I’m really sorry. Are you sure you’re okay?"

"I’m fine except you scared the devil out of me. What are you doing skulking through the woods this time of night?"

He gestured toward the lake. "I like to walk on the beach at night. No law against that is there?" An amused expression flickered on his face.

"No...but there is against scaring someone to death."

"I didn’t mean to do that. I saw the lightbeam coming from behind the cabin and veered through the woods..." He gave her a telling look. "To startle the burglar. They’ve had some break-ins nearby."

The newsflash darted through her already jittered senses. "Thanks for the wonderful bit of information."

The man’s expression shifted to earnestness. "Sorry, but you should know. The cabin on the other side of my sister’s was robbed."

Her annoyance faded as his undertaking clarified in her mind. How could she be angry at someone who’d endangered himself to protect her property. "Thanks. I’m sorry for being so unpleasant."

His tone lightened. "I scared you. You’re forgiven."

The rest of his comment awoke in Tess’s thoughts. "What do you mean, your sister? Who is she?"

"Jill Roddy. Two cottages down. Short, blonde--"

"Jill? Sure. We’ve talked on the beach many times...and I love her little boy, Davie."

"My nephew." He nodded as if agreeing. "You and I have met before. I don’t suppose you remember." He shifted the flashlight to the left hand and extended his right. "I’m Ryan Walsh."

"Ryan?" She accepted his handshake, allowing her memory to take her back to a sun-filled afternoon. "Yes, I remember. I’m Tess Britton." She searched his face, recalling the vague familiarity but wondering about the change. "But you look so different."

"I had a beard then. Plus a few extra pounds."

"Is that it?" His amiable smile sent warmth coursing along Tess’s limbs. "Your face struck a cord when I first saw you." His eyes, she corrected herself.

For a moment they stood with clasped hands while they studied each other in the light beam.

Recalling their earlier meetings, Tess’s gaze went on an admiring new journey over his tall build and broad shoulders. She returned her focus to his perfect features—the chiseled jaw, a generous smile, a shock of unruly blond hair, and his eyes—-green like new grass sparkling with dew.

"Are you alone this trip?" he asked.

She lowered her eyes, not wanting to ruin the moment with explanation. "Yes."

"I suppose your husband had to work again. That’s too bad."

Work again. His statement surprised her while an awkward silence stretched between them. Apparently, he’d remembered how often she’d come up north alone or with her brother and his wife.

Ryan looked at her a moment, then took a step backward. "Did I say something wrong?"

"No. How would you know? My husband died two years ago."

"I...I’m sorry." He shifted his feet and lowered his head. "My big mouth."

Her gaze settled on his well-formed lips, looking soft and tempting in the moonlight. She winced seeing how uncomfortable he appeared. "Please...you didn’t know. I’m fine now, really." For the most part, she added to herself.

"That’s me. Open mouth. Insert foot."

"How would you have known. Please. Forget it."

Another suffocating silence wavered between them. Finally, Tess broke the stillness.

"Well now," she said, hoping to lighten the mood, "I suppose we look pretty silly standing in the dark introducing ourselves."

Ryan turned his head one way, then the other, peering into the blackness. "Could be, but I don’t see anyone watching us." He shot her a tender smile.

Her pulse fluttered with his gentle humor. "Guess not." Then remembering her purpose, Tess swung her light toward the propane tanks. "I’d better finish this job."

Ryan’s gaze followed the direction of the beam. "Propane?"

"Uh-huh. The tank ran out, but the other’s full...I hope."

He crouched to check the gauge, and his action scented the air with a mixture of new leather and a woodsy fragrance.

Patting the tank, he rose. "You’re right. This one’s full. Let me give you a hand."

Tess wanted to say she could do it herself, but she hesitated...wondering if she really could.

He shined the flashlight downward and picked up the wrench from where she’d dropped it.

Eager to accept his offer, Tess directed her light as he made quick work of rotating the tanks.

"There you go." He straightened and handed Tess the wrench, his eyes focused on hers, not the tool.

His direct gaze took her breath away.

As she mumbled her thanks, her thoughts drifted to the long lonely evening and to the present amiable company. "Would you like to come in for some cocoa?"

"Cocoa?" His eyebrows flickered above his smiling eyes. "Sure. Sounds good."

The tension vanished.

©2003 Gail Gaymer Martin