“Is this becoming a habit?” Jacob asked. “We keep running into each other.”
“I’m not following you,” Aimee said with a low laugh. “I promise. I didn’t know you attended this church.”
“Yes, and it’s great that you’re here. Let me find a good seat for you.” Once seated, Aimee surreptitiously watched Jacob as he carried out his duties as usher. His voice was compassionate. He was gracious to old and young alike. She noticed again how captivatingly handsome he was, and decided that Jacob’s nature matched his appearance.
Was it just coincidence or was it significant that she had encountered him three times in as many days? Her Granny always used the expression, “It was meant to be.” Could that be true of her and Jacob?
IRENE BRAND
Writing has been a lifelong interest of this author, who says that she started her first novel when she was eleven years old and hasn’t finished it yet. However, since 1984 she’s published more than thirty contemporary and historical novels and three nonfiction titles. She started writing professionally in 1977 after she completed her master’s degree in history at Marshall University. Irene taught in secondary public schools for twenty-three years, but retired in 1989 to devote herself to writing.
Consistent involvement in the activities of her local church has been a source of inspiration for Irene’s work. Traveling with her husband, Rod, to all fifty states, and to thirty-two foreign countries has also inspired her writing. Irene is grateful to the many readers who have written to say that her inspiring stories and compelling portrayals of characters with strong faith have made a positive impression on their lives. You can write to her at P.O. Box 2770, Southside, WV 25187 or visit her Web site at http://www.irenebrand.com.
Made for Each Other
Irene Brand
For if you forgive men when they sin against you,
your heavenly Father will also forgive you.
—Matthew 6:14
To the youth of Harmony Baptist Church
Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Questions for Discussion
Chapter One
“You’re going to do what?”
Aimee Blake pivoted quickly away from the vanity where she was applying her makeup and stared at her daughter. With a bulging backpack slung over her shoulder, Samantha leaned carelessly against the doorjamb, her face serene, as if she hadn’t just tossed a bombshell in her mother’s lap.
“I’m going to ride to school with Jennifer. She’s picking me up.”
“Why?”
“Duh—because she can drive now,” Samantha said, avoiding her mother’s stare. “Jennifer’s parents bought her the most awesome car. I’ll just ride to school with her from now on.”
“Without asking me if it’s okay?”
Samantha rolled her heavily made-up, smoky-gray eyes, too heavily made up for Aimee’s taste. “Puh-leeze, Mom. I’m not a kid anymore.”
“Well, at fourteen, you aren’t an adult, either,” Aimee stated decisively. “Besides, Jennifer hasn’t had her driver’s license more than a month.”
Samantha shrugged dismissively. “So? She hasn’t gotten a ticket. Proves she’s a safe driver.”
Aimee stifled a grin. Even in her frustration, she was amused at Samantha’s adolescent reasoning. Before she could discuss it any further with Samantha, Jennifer Nibert’s screeching tires announced her arrival as she sped into the driveway. A slamming car door indicated that she was on her way to the house.
“You can go with Jennifer this morning, but we’ll discuss the future tonight,” Aimee said quietly. She stepped into the hallway a second before the front door opened and Jennifer wandered inside. As usual, Aimee was startled by the girl’s appearance. She was dressed totally in black, except for the silver chains around her waist and neck. Aimee counted four earrings in her left ear, two in the other one. Heavy makeup disguised Jennifer’s beautiful facial features and gold-green eyes.
“Ready, Sam? We’ve got to go. Oh, hi, Mrs. Blake. Come and see my new car.”
With an inward sigh, Aimee stepped out on the porch. Jennifer pointed with pride to the two-door blue sports car parked in the driveway. “Pretty sweet ride, huh, Mrs. B.?” she asked Aimee.
“It’s awesome!” Samantha agreed. “I love it already.”
Although Aimee was worried at the thought of a girl as seemingly immature as Jennifer being turned loose in that car and with Samantha in it, she admitted, “It’s very pretty. But it isn’t a toy, Jennifer, so drive carefully.”
“I always do,” Jennifer said, and a beaming grin crossed her friendly, if a little scary-looking, face.
The two girls slid into the leather-covered bucket seats and fastened their seat belts. Jennifer threw the car into Reverse and backed toward the street, then stopped abruptly.
Samantha rolled down her window. “Hey, Mom. I forgot to tell you. I’m going to a sleepover at Jennifer’s tonight. Okay? Bye.” She closed the window and Jennifer quickly backed into the street and sped away.
This announcement, coming on top of her daughter’s surprise decision to stop riding to school with her, was more than Aimee could stomach. Her first reaction was anger, but the shock of Samantha’s sudden independence—or was it rebellion?—yielded quickly to concern. Aimee hadn’t suspected her daughter of deceiving her before, but she was convinced now that Samantha had deliberately waited to tell her about the sleepover after she thought it would be too late for her mother to forbid it.
Aimee wiped away the angry tears that threatened to spill from the corners of her eyes as she returned to the house. The pain in her heart was beyond tears. Was she losing her daughter, or was Samantha just growing up?
Glancing at the clock, she knew she didn’t have time to fret about the situation now. She had to be at work in forty-five minutes. She rushed into the bedroom to finish dressing for the day. Feeling in need of an extra boost to her self-confidence, Aimee sprayed on some expensive perfume she’d recently bought as a gift to herself. The aromatic lavender fragrance swirled around her as she left the house. Dreading the workday, Aimee drove out of the cul-de-sac where she’d lived for several years.
With a few minutes to spare, Aimee arrived at Eastside Elementary School where she had worked as a secretary ever since the year Samantha had started kindergarten there. As she parked, Aimee glanced across the street to the high school where her daughter was now a student. Where had the time gone? She saw Jennifer’s car in the parking lot and breathed a sigh of relief that they’d arrived safely.
Aimee