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Once About a Time A Barbour |
Fairy-Tale Brides A Barbour (Wal-Mart) |
in the contemporary fairytale anthology ONCE UPON A TIME and FAIRY-TALE BRIDES
by Gail Gaymer Martin
Setting - Oberammergau, Germany
Visiting her grandmother in the fairytale-like German town, redheaded Lucy Blair plans to attend the world-renowned Passion of Christ. What she did not plan to do was to meet Ron Woodson, her old college boyfriend. Will their meeting rekindle the old flame or will the past smother the new spark?
A hireling, and not the shepherd, seeth the wolf coming, and leaveth the sheep, and fleeth: and the wolf catcheth them, and scattereth the sheep. I am the good shepherd, and know my sheep, and am known of mine. John 10:12, 14 KJV
Excerpt from Chapter 1
Hurrying along the puddled sidewalk, Lucy Blake shuddered from the dampness, clutching the hood of her bright red raincoat with one hand and her grandmother’s shopping basket with the other. Disappointed by three days of rain, she looked above the slate roofs of Oberammergau, longing to see the Bavarian Alps rising in jagged peaks above her head. Since she’d arrived four days earlier, she’d seen only low clouds and now the persistent downpour.
Though the June weather frustrated her, the lovely mountain town did not. Opposing the drab sky, brightly painted murals covered the front of the town’s buildings. Gold and silver scroll-work framing windows and billowing fabric draping the doorways were nothing more than elegant paintings. Colorful scenes from the passion of Christ and the lives of early German forefathers came to life in the gigantic murals that covered the stucco buildings. Lucy had never seen anything like it before, except in photographs.
Since she’d arrived, she’d not wandered far from her grandmother’s home, concerned about the elderly woman’s recent illness. Today, seeing the splendor, she longed to have time to wander the lovely gift emporiums and woodcarving shops to purchase items to take back home to Michigan.
The grocery basket weighed on Lucy’s arm. She stepped beneath a shop’s green awning, and relieved, she shifted her burden and dropped her hood. At home when she went to the grocery store, she’d stock up for a week or two, but here, small refrigerators and tradition sent the townspeople to the bakery and meat shop daily.
While she paused beneath the canvas, the store window caught her interest: animals, manger scenes, nutcrackers, but particularly, a hand-carved angel. Lucy leaned closer to the window, admiring the intricate design, the pastel shades of flesh and pink that tinted the face, and the muted blue of the flowing gown. It would be a perfect gift for her mother’s birthday.
Though her mind told her to wait for a more convenient day, Lucy’s enthusiasm jettisoned her forward. She stepped through the archway and pulled open the shop door.
Inside, she faltered, marveling at the row after row of lovely hand-crafted items. Art pieces, wall carvings, and delicate Christmas ornaments filled the shelves. The pungent aroma of fresh wood rose in the warmth of the shop.
Wandering the aisles, Lucy searched for the angel she’d seen in the window. She paused, studying the unusual gifts and novelty wooden toys. A lone salesclerk talked to another customer, and rather than bother her, Lucy headed through a wide archway into another showroom.
Ahead of her, she saw a young man bent over a piece of wood. Curious, she headed toward him. She’d never seen a woodcarver and the experience excited her. But before she drew near, she faltered, a shiver of familiarity rising up her arms and down her spine.
Ron. The similarity between this man and her college steady took her breath away. Ron Woodson. How long had it been? Six, maybe seven years. Standing a few rows away, Lucy couldn’t take her eyes from him as a tender sadness washed over her, remembering their parting.
The bent head raised, and dazzling blue eyes aimed in her direction. The similarity was uncanny. The only change was a look of maturity and a more manly physique. Lucy pulled her eyes away and stared in confusion at a row of carved birds.
"Red?"
Her heart tumbled to her toes, then bounced into her throat like a rubber ball. Red. Ron always teased her about her straight, unruly red hair. She looked at him, disbelieving.
He rose and stepped toward her. "Is it you?"
His face registered the same astonished expression that she felt tugging at her countenance. "Ron?" With hesitation, she took a mini-step forward.
"Lucy!" He rushed forward, his arms opened in greeting. "What are you doing here?"
As if time and hurt had never happened, Lucy let the basket drop to the floor and ran into his embrace. She threw her arms around his neck, her voice lost in his broad, firm chest.
As if time had stood still, Lucy felt at home in his arms, inhaling the faint musky odor of his aftershave mingled with the scent of wood shavings. He seemed taller now, and she pulled her head away from him to speak. "I can’t believe this."
"You’ll never know how often I’ve thought of you, Lucy," Ron said, his color heightened by his excitement. "You look exactly the same." He raised his hand and tousled her disheveled hair. "Red with a few waves, just like I remember." His fingers slid down her tresses, and he brushed her cheek with his index finger. "You look so good."
"You, too, Ron, but...," she hesitated, not wanting to admit the feelings the roused in her. "It’s only seeing someone familiar. You know, someone from home." It was more than that, but she couldn’t say it—not to Ron. Not after their frustrated parting.
"You can call it what you want, Lucy...and I know you will...but it’s more. I’ve missed you."
"You haven’t changed. Still the same old line."
He shook his head. "It’s not a line, Red. Trust me."
Trust me. That’s what she’d not been able to do, back then. Ron wanted so many things she didn’t understand, and the one thing she wanted, he didn’t. She prayed for him to accept Christ as his Savior.
He hadn’t.
©2000 Gail Gaymer Martin
