A Family To Share. Arlene James

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      “Larissa, please listen. Listen a

       minute. Daddy’s talking to you,” Kendal Oakes said, trying to comfort his screaming daughter.

      Connie walked in, and all heads in the daycare center turned in her direction. Larissa stopped wailing long enough to see that someone new had arrived. The next instant the child launched herself, literally, out of her father’s arms and straight into Connie’s.

      Grappling with the sudden weight of a flying body, slight as it was, Connie staggered slightly, as Larissa leaned her head against her and sobbed inconsolably. The sound of it tore at Connie’s heart, and by the look in Kendal’s cinnamon-brown eyes, it ripped him to shreds.

      “I’m so sorry,” he said, but she shook her head and instinctively stepped back as he reached for his daughter.

      “It’s all right,” she told him with a soft smile.

      ARLENE JAMES

      says, “Camp meetings, mission work and the church where my parents and grandparents were prominent members permeate my Oklahoma childhood memories. It was a golden time, which sustains me yet. However, only as a young, widowed mother did I truly begin growing in my personal relationship with the Lord. Through adversity, He blessed me in countless ways, one of which is a second marriage so loving and romantic, it still feels like courtship!”

      The author of over sixty novels, Arlene James now resides outside of Dallas, Texas, with her husband. Arlene says, “The rewards of motherhood have indeed been extraordinary for me. Yet I’ve looked forward to this new stage of my life.” Her need to write is greater than ever, a fact that frankly amazes her, as she’s been at it since the eighth grade!

      A Family to Share

      Arlene James

      For we do not have a high priest who cannot

       sympathize with our weaknesses, but one who has been tempted in all things as we are, yet without sin. Let us therefore draw near with confidence to the throne of grace, that we may receive mercy and may find grace to help in time of need.

      —Hebrews 4:15–16

      For the Stines, with much affection.

      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

      Letter to Reader

      Chapter One

      “Lovely,” Sharon pronounced, backing away from the trail of ivory satin ribbon that she left curling around a tendril of ivy on the floor, the finishing touch to a canopy of cascading ribbons and greenery.

      “It is beautiful,” Connie said, gently tugging on her left earlobe as she pictured her older sister, Jolie, standing beneath the canopy beside Sharon’s brother, Vince.

      Jolie met tall, good-looking Vince Cutler after she’d moved into his old apartment. He’d forgotten to have his personal mail forwarded, and the two had met after he’d dropped by to pick up what the post office had sent to his old address. One thing had led to another and now the two were about to be married.

      Connie couldn’t have been happier for her sister. God knew that Jolie needed someone like Vince, especially at that point in her life. The whole thing was terribly romantic. Every wedding was romantic, Connie supposed, but especially on Valentine’s Day when the couple were as much in love as Jolie and Vince. The wedding was still hours away, but there were already tears in Connie’s eyes.

      Helen, one of the youngest of Vince’s four sisters, folded her arms and nodded decisively.

      “I think it’s the prettiest wedding we’ve ever done.”

      “Ought to be,” Donna, the youngest, cracked, “considering how much practice we’ve had.”

      “And you know that if we’d left it up to Vince,” Olivia, the second-oldest sister, drawled, “he’d have hauled in a couple of hay bales, stuck a daisy in one and called it done.”

      Everyone laughed, but it was good-natured teasing. All of the sisters were married and seemed delighted that their adored only brother had found his life mate, even if Jolie had decorated his house in Western style, or something between Texana and cowboy chic, as she put it. For the Cutler women, chintz and kitsch seemed to be the height of home fashion, but Connie certainly couldn’t fault their wedding decor.

      In fact, Connie couldn’t have been happier with Jolie’s soon-to-be in-laws. They had even helped mend the rift that had existed between Connie and Jolie, a break that had resulted from a custody battle over Connie’s young son, Russell. Vince had pushed Jolie to reconcile with her family, and for that, Connie would be forever grateful. According to Marcus, Connie’s and Jolie’s brother, that just went to prove that God does indeed move in mysterious ways.

      Marcus, who was the pastor of this endearing old church where the wedding would take place, had been accorded the happy privilege of performing the ceremony, and Connie knew that he treasured the very idea of it. No one had regretted the break with Jolie more than Marcus had, but since the family had been mended, he’d have the joy of officiating at his sister’s wedding ceremony. Wanting to look his very best on this momentous occasion, he had gone to the barber shop that morning for a professional shave and cut.

      “Just think,” he’d said as he kissed Connie’s cheek before walking out of the door of the house they shared, “one day I’ll be doing this for you, too.”

      Connie doubted that very much. Marcus, bless him, was so good that he couldn’t understand that most men would hold her past against her, at least the sort of man that she would even remotely consider as a father for her son. Jolie, on the other hand, deserved a kind, caring, upright man like Vince. Connie had cheated herself of that privilege, but she couldn’t be too maudlin about her situation; if she hadn’t made certain mistakes, she wouldn’t have Russell.

      Thoughts of her eighteen-month-old son woke a quiet yearning for the sight of his sweet little face, and Connie glanced at her wrist to check the time. If she hurried, she ought to be able to give Russell his dinner in the kitchen at the parsonage before she had to start getting ready for the wedding.

      As if she could read her thoughts, Sharon announced, “I think we’re finished here.”

      “Better be,” Olivia said, gathering up her decorating supplies. “Mom’s hair appointment is in thirty minutes.”

      “Oh, that’s right!” Helen gasped. “We’d better swing by the fellowship hall and pry her out of there ASAP.”

      “I don’t know what she’s been doing over there all this time anyway,” Donna said. “All she had left to do was arrange a few relish trays.”

      Sharon rolled her eyes. “That’s like saying all Genghis Khan had to do after he conquered Asia was ride a horse across it. She’ll have rearranged the serving tables and had the baker redecorate the cake by now.”

      “She’d better not,” Olivia declared, heading for the door.

      Olivia had spent hours that morning arranging