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The children cried out for a mother. He wanted a wife…
The more Kelsey tried to shake the idea of asking Meg to marry him, to come and make harmony of his chaotic days, to share with him the raising of his children, the more the idea grew.
Meg. Pretty and sweet tempered in a way that was seldom seen in this day and age. Yet a nineties woman for all that, smartly intelligent, efficient and seemingly tireless.
How impossible was it? His kids needed a mother, all right, all five of them. Who better than Meg? Whom he knew and liked—even loved—as a friend?
And what would she get out of it? His affection? He wasn’t sure if he had any love left to offer a woman.
But Meg will know all that without any explanation, his heart murmured. Asking Meg to marry him would be like asking a part of himself to come home.
RUTH SCOFIELD
became serious about writing after she’d raised her children. Until then she’d concentrated her life on being a June Cleaver-type wife and mother, spent years as a Bible student and teacher for teens and young adults, and led a weekly women’s prayer group. When she’d made a final wedding dress and her last child had left the nest, she declared to one and all that it was her turn to activate a dream. Thankfully, her husband applauded her decision.
Ruth began school in an old-fashioned rural two-room schoolhouse and grew up in the days before television, giving substance to her notion that she still has one foot in the last century. However, active involvement with six rambunctious grandchildren has her eagerly looking forward to the next millennium. After living on the East Coast for years, Ruth and her husband now live in Missouri.
In God’s Own Time
Ruth Scofield
Delight yourselves in the Lord and He will give you the desires of your heart.
—Psalms 37:4
God is our refuge and strength, an ever-present help in time of trouble.
—Psalms 46:1
I can do everything through Him who gives me strength.
—Philippians 4:13
For my daughter Karen, who gives all of her heart wherever it is needed—especially to children.
Meg Lawrence almost tripped down the step when she glanced up and saw Kelsey Jamison pull his nine-year-old road-dirt blue car into the far side of the church parking lot. He shut off the motor and remained where he was, eyes to the front, obviously waiting for his children to emerge from the crowded church.
She stood for an instant, letting people stream around her, and ordered her heart to right itself. His profile showed her a familiar straight nose, both sunburned and tanned, and the edge of his mouth—a mouth she most often remembered in laughter—before he dipped his head and his straw cowboy hat hid her view.
Did his green eyes still dance with teasing humor when he told a funny story? Did he, she wondered, still have the knack of turning around an innocent comment someone offered to suit himself, and then laugh gently as if they shared an inside joke?
Those mossy colored eyes had made her feel those moments were ones of personal sharing when she was young; memories she’d held close.
Kelsey hadn’t seen her, and Meg perversely turned on her heel and reentered the church building. It wasn’t that she hadn’t expected to see him sometime or