A Bungalow For Two. Carole Page Gift
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sun casting gold ribbons across her ivory face and bare shoulder.
The warm sunlight reminded him that all was well in his life. Better than it had been in years. He had so much for which to be grateful…a devoted wife and two daughters happily married with families of their own.
He had kept his promise to Mandy. “Find our girls good husbands,” she had told him during their last hours together. It had been her dying wish. “And find a good woman for yourself, Andrew. You’ll need someone to look after you.”
Yes, he had done that too. God had given him his exquisite Juliana.
And now, with his two oldest daughters married, that left just one daughter. Frannie, his youngest. A chill rippled though him as he recalled his unsettling dream. Those shadowy, nightmarish images had captured his underlying concern for Frannie. She had taken Mandy’s death the hardest. With everyone else in the family married, she seemed so alone, at loose ends, drifting. Surely one of these days the right man would come along for her. It was one of Andrew’s most fervent prayers.
And until then, he didn’t want Frannie feeling abandoned, just because he had a brand-new family to fuss over. But the truth was, he would have his hands full with his vivacious Juliana and her grown daughter.
If ever a young woman needed a father, it was shy, skittish Belina. She had already endured enough trials and heartaches for a lifetime—the car crash, her father’s death, her own disability and disfigurement. But with surgery, counseling and rehabilitation, she had come a long way over the past two years.
Andrew hoped against hope that Frannie would take Belina under her wing and become a real sister to her. Of course, Frannie was stubborn and headstrong and didn’t warm to just anybody. She was possessive and overprotective, too, but that was partly Andrew’s fault. He had been so needy after Mandy’s death, he had allowed his youngest daughter to pamper and mollycoddle him. While he had thrown himself into his ministerial duties at the church, she had taken over the cooking and household chores like a faithful little trooper.
Even when his two older daughters began making lives for themselves, Frannie was the one who dug in her heels and refused to budge. She was going to stay home and take care of her daddy, no matter what. No wonder she had resisted the idea of him bringing home a new bride and stepdaughter.
But Andrew was just as determined as Frannie. With Cassie and Brianna married now and establishing homes of their own, he would encourage Frannie to find in Juliana and Belina the motherly and sisterly companionship she missed.
It was a long shot, to be sure. In temperament, Frannie and Juliana were like oil and water. Add to the mix Belina’s reclusive personality, and you had a recipe for trouble. But, as he had learned long ago, with God all things were possible. More than once, Andrew had staked his life on that Scriptural principle.
Another unmistakable reality confronted Andrew. The Rowlands household was going to be a very different place from now on. How drastically it had changed in the past seven years, starting with Mandy’s death, then Cassie’s marriage, then the double wedding of Andrew and Juliana and Brianna and Eric. And now Brianna had moved out just as Cassie had, and Juliana and his new stepdaughter had moved in.
Andrew rolled over and gazed again at his sleeping bride. Lightly he caressed a strand of her shiny black hair that rippled over the pillow. He yearned to sweep her up in his arms, but she looked so peaceful, he was reluctant to startle her.
It still hardly seemed possible that God had blessed him with two remarkable women in one lifetime. Naturally, Juliana was nothing like Mandy; they were as opposite as night and day. Mandy had been quiet, self-assured, delicate, refined. Juliana was fun-loving, flamboyant, larger than life.
Andrew rested his arms under his head and looked up at the ceiling. Over the years he had grown so accustomed to talking to Mandy in his mind that it was a hard habit to break, even with Juliana lying beside him.
Mandy, he mused with a wry half smile, can you believe it? Here I am with Juliana. My wife. She isn’t like you, nothing like you. But, oh, I love her. It doesn’t mean I loved you any less. No one can replace you, Mandy. But Juliana’s a delight. She’s full of laughter and exuberance and song. She’s impetuous and unpredictable.
Sometimes I wonder if I’ll ever keep up with her. I’ll never corral her spirit, but that’s part of why I love her. She isn’t you, Mandy. I knew you like I know my own soul, and I’ll never forget you, darling. You taught me what love is all about, showed me how to open my heart and cherish a woman. Because of what you taught me about life and love, I believe I can make Juliana happy. Do I have your blessing, Mandy? I’d like to think I do.
Juliana’s drowsy voice inquired, “Andrew? Are you okay?”
With a start he looked over at his wife. She had propped herself up on one elbow, her ebony hair cascading over her milky-white shoulders.
“Sure, I’m fine,” he said, running his fingers over her arm. How could he confess to his lovely bride that he had been carrying on a mental conversation with his long-deceased wife?
“You looked so deep in thought. A million miles away.”
“Yes, at least that,” he conceded.
“Pleasant thoughts, I hope.”
“Absolutely. What else on a sunny morning with my new bride beside me?” He reached over and gathered her into his arms. She nestled her head on his bare chest and he caught the scent of magnolias. How good she felt in his arms. He could hold her like this forever!
Being a man over the half-century mark in years, he hadn’t expected to feel such a rush of what could only be described as youthful emotions. What a power there was in love. Falling in love was an indescribable intoxicant. With Juliana in his arms, he felt ageless, invincible; there was nothing he couldn’t accomplish. He turned her lovely face up to his and kissed her soundly.
When she caught her breath, she murmured, “Andrew, dearest, what a wonderful way to start the day. Maybe we should skip breakfast and spend the entire morning—”
A determined knock on the door jarred them both.
“We’re sleeping,” Andrew called out, stifling his vexation.
“Not anymore!” The door eased open and Frannie peeked inside, her long blond hair flowing around her shoulders. She was wearing a tank top and cutoffs that showed off her golden tan. “Time for breakfast, you sleepyheads. It’s almost nine, and you never go past 8:00 a.m., Daddy.”
Andrew released Juliana, and she slipped down modestly under the covers.
Andrew cleared his throat uneasily and folded his arms over his bare chest. “We were thinking of skipping breakfast this morning, sweetheart.”
“No, Daddy, it’s not good for you to skip a meal. Besides, I have a surprise for your first morning home.” Frannie breezed inside with a serving tray and set it on the bedside table.
As Andrew hoisted himself up, he caught the inviting aromas of bacon and coffee. “Honey, it smells wonderful, but—”
Juliana sat up, too, tucking the sheet around her shoulders. “Breakfast in bed? Oh, Frannie, you shouldn’t have.”
Frannie beamed. “It’s nothing really. Just bacon and eggs and cinnamon toast. Daddy’s usual.”
Juliana gave Frannie a stricken look. “Oh, dear, your father shouldn’t be eating such things! Think of his cholesterol!”
Andrew reached for a slice of toast. “My cholesterol is fine and dandy, thank you.”
Juliana lifted her chin truculently. “I don’t care what you say, Andrew. A man your age should not be eating such fatty foods!”
“What do you mean, a man my age? What’s wrong with my age?”
“Nothing is wrong with your age. But I intend to see that you live several more decades.”
“By depriving me of bacon