A Groom Worth Waiting For. Crystal Stovall

alive.

      Instantly, a prayer formed in her mind. Dear God, let the police get here before it’s too late for us and the clerk. Even though she couldn’t see the stranger’s face, she knew without a doubt that he sent the same prayer heavenward.

      Two angry voices splintered the silence, followed by the sound of shattering glass. Amy jumped at the noise, and the man embraced her with both arms. This time, though, she didn’t fight his closeness. She took the comfort and strength he offered, and leaned into his protective circle.

      “We’re going to be okay,” he whispered. Though his voice sounded confident, she knew he was just as scared as she was. Finding his hand, she squeezed it, and he squeezed back.

      The voices shouted at each other again, and Amy pressed against the man. Turning her head as if she couldn’t bear to see what was happening in the next room, she rested her ear against his chest. Finding comfort in the fast but even rhythm of his heart, Amy soon realized that her own cadence matched his.

      Outside, car doors slammed. Then the store telephone rang. Someone answered on the third ring. Amy could only assume the police had arrived, and with their presence she prayed this terror would soon be over.

      The man turned his ear toward the door, and Amy could tell he, too, was listening for clues as to what was happening on the other side of the wall. However, it was impossible to make any sense of the random noises. One thing was becoming very clear, though; something had gone wrong. Neither of the two voices belonged to the friendly clerk. The robbers were fighting with each other, and who knew what that could mean.

      Amy did the only thing she knew to do. She prayed harder and faster.

      And as if the man sensed the urgency of her messages to God, he clasped her hands as if to say he wanted to join in her prayers. Because she didn’t dare whisper any more than was necessary, Amy moved her lips as she prayed silently, and from behind she felt the man’s warm breath on her neck as he, too, prayed.

      When they got out of the closet, she would owe this man her life. And somehow, she’d find a way to repay him.

      Matthew Wynn held his breath as glass crashed to the tile floor, and each time the woman jumped, he tightened his grip on her arms. Though he was playing the role of protector, he’d never been more scared in his life.

      For what seemed like forever, the shattering noise came in waves, as if a madman were swooping down the aisles with widespread arms, knocking dozens of jars to the floor. Matt couldn’t begin to guess what was really going on in the convenience store or why the police hadn’t been able to apprehend the robbers. Over and over, he searched his mind for a way to bring this situation to an end, but came up with no safe solution. For the moment, it seemed enough that he protect the woman in his arms.

      Matt didn’t need to see her eyes to know she feared for her life. He felt her terror in the tremble of her hand, in the way she pressed against his chest as if she couldn’t get close enough and in the way she’d turned her head as if she couldn’t bear to face the truth. And yet, despite her fear, she’d reached out to comfort him. She’d let him know with the squeeze of her hand and a reassuring rub on his forearm that she believed if they worked together they’d leave the storeroom alive.

      Finally, the crashing glass stopped, and both Matt and the woman exhaled at the same instant. Though Matt loosened his embrace, he noticed she didn’t move. In the silent lull, a storeroom clock ticked off the seconds. Though it felt like they’d already been held hostage for hours, Matt guessed the actual time was closer to a half hour. Feeling his legs cramp, he shifted his weight, and he wasn’t surprised when the woman’s movements shadowed his own.

      Dear Lord, he silently prayed, show me what to do. Help me protect this woman, and please, Lord, keep Hank safe.

      Though Matt didn’t know the clerk well, he thought the world of Hank’s father, Howard, who owned a local chain of convenience stores. Howard had given Matt his first job, and he’d worked in this very store until after college graduation. Back then, he’d had no clue that his knowledge of the storeroom layout might one day save his life. The closet they were hiding in had been added as an afterthought, and instead of having a real door, a makeshift one had been fashioned out of a leftover piece of wood paneling. Because the door blended into the paneled walls, the robber hadn’t noticed it when he’d searched the storeroom.

      When the silence continued, it became more unnerving than the crashing glass and angry shouts. What could be happening out there? Should he leave the closet and peek through the doorway? It was their only means of escape, as the delivery entrance was generally locked at all times, and the only window was barely big enough for a dog to crawl through. Plus, it had bars. But even a peek seemed like too much of a risk. If it had been just his own life, he would have taken the chance. But he had to consider the woman, too.

      As the silence drew out and the woman’s heartbeat raced his, his thoughts turned toward her. He’d never seen her before, but that wasn’t unusual in a city the size of Lexington. She’d caught his attention the instant he’d seen her by the cappuccino machine. Not just because she was attractive, but because there was a sad turmoil in her eyes that made her seem fragile and lost. He’d wanted to say something profound, but what could you say to a stranger? Instead, he’d barked out something silly about her cappuccino. Then she’d amused him by smiling as she’d sipped the sugary drink. He knew she didn’t like it but drank it just to spite him. And he felt that same spunky spirit now as they patiently prayed for their freedom.

      Suddenly there were a hundred questions he wanted to ask her. Like where did she live and what did she do for a living? How did she happen to be in this convenience store this morning? Did she believe in God? Did she love to ride horses across grassy meadows? Did she like corn dogs and chocolate ice cream cones? It seemed silly in this tense moment to wonder these things. Yet it was better than focusing on what could happen if things went wrong.

      Without thinking, he brushed his hand across the top of her head, memorizing the silky feel of the fragrant strands. He swallowed hard, desiring to rub his hand down her cheek and neck and across her arms. As if, in the simple touch, he could know this woman. But he knew that was impossible. He sensed her complexity. This was a woman of spirit and passion, yet graced with enough common sense to trust him in this dangerous moment.

      The shouting started again, but Matt couldn’t understand what was being said. Instinctively, he tightened his embrace as the woman pressed against him. Leaning his head close to hers, he whispered, “It’s going to be okay. It’s going to be over soon.”

      In response, the woman placed her hand over his, and in the long, desperate squeeze communicated her faith in him and God. And as her message pulsed through his body, Matt felt something more profound and more deep than he’d ever experienced before. He felt as if he knew this woman in ways he’d never understood another woman. He felt as if she could see through the darkness to his vulnerabilities, to his longings, to his failures, as well as his hopes and dreams for the future. It was crazy, but he felt closer to her and more connected to her than he’d ever felt to anyone in his life.

      He shook his head in an attempt to break the bond between them, to prove it didn’t exist, to prove it was merely a figment of his imagination. But the magic permeated the storeroom just as the scent of warm cinnamon bread lingered in the kitchen long after the last bite had been swallowed.

      For just a moment, Matt didn’t want the standoff to end. He wanted to go on holding this woman forever.

      The woman’s body stiffened, propelling Matt back to the danger at hand. The noises had changed. The front door buzzer sounded, and new voices filled the room. He thought he heard the click of handcuffs but couldn’t be certain.

      When she tilted her head toward him as if to ask if it would be safe to go out, he answered by pulling her closer. He wouldn’t risk her life by venturing out too soon.

      Finally, a gruff man, who identified himself as a police officer, shouted from the storeroom doorway that it was okay to come out. Matt and Amy sucked in their breaths, leery of leaving their safe nest.

      “Dear