Page 62 of A Whim and a Prayer

“We lay there like that for hours, Amy, just waiting until I heard the click of the lock before they took a picture of me with a flash. I remember the sudden burst of light and then a sharp pop and sizzle when the filament burned out”—he gave a nod toward the waste can—“so they must have done the same thing in that picture.”

Amy’s lip started to tremble. “Henry, I want to believe you, I do, but it’s so hard ...” She gave a nervous buff of her arms. “How could she undress you without you knowing it? Did you wake up naked?”

He rubbed his temple as he squeezed his eyes shut, willing that night to come back with perfect clarity. “No … no, I remember waking up in my tuxedo because I passed out in it after I told her to leave, then had to rebutton both the shirt and vest in the morning.” His eyes flew open. “Yeah, that’s right because she only unbuttoned my vest the night before, not my shirt—I remember that! So I must have been too blitzed to even know what was going on when she stripped me and put everything back on.”

He could see the wheels turning in her brain, wondering if she should believe him, and his breathing accelerated as his mind struggled for some way to convince her. He sagged onto his end of the sofa and put his head in his hands, calling on God like he’d never had before.

Please, God—help!

“Wait!” All at once his head lashed up, the whites of his eyes expanding like the sudden hope in his chest as he sprang up to retrieve the filthy picture from the trash, hands shaking as he tried to straighten it out. “Look, Amy!” he cried, rushing to where she still sat on the sofa, “look at this picture again—I have my watch on!”

——

Amy blinked, grabbing the photo to stare at it with eyes as wide as Henry’s. The watch! The large military one Henry loved, with the protruding crown, rough crystal edges, and leather strap with a metal buckle. The same one he never took off unless he showered—or they made love—because he said he didn’t want to scratch her. She didn’t have the heart to ask him why, figuring it had something to do with a prior incident in his wilder days.

“Maybe you took a shower …” she said, the photo trembling in her hands.

Henry grabbed it back, pointing to the cross he always wore—a gift from his grandparents when he was a teenager that he never took off, even during a shower. He swallowed hard, blood warming his face. Except when he’d sleep with a woman. Because not only did it seem like a sacrilege to wear it when he was immoral, but the cross and chain had once gotten tangled in a girl’s long hair. Consequently, Henry always took it off during intimacy.

“The cross and chain, Amy—I’m wearing both my watch and my cross and chain! Have I ever worn them when we make love?”

She leaned closer to look and tears suddenly welled in her eyes as joy burst in her chest. Because no, Henry never wore either his watch or his cross and chain when they went to bed. She’d always thought it a bit quirky when he took them off right before he got under the covers, carefully laying them on the nightstand without fail.

Except in this picture.

“Oh, Henry!” She launched into his arms, never more grateful for that silly quirk she always teased him about.

“Amy …” He clutched her so hard, she gasped as he whispered words of love in her ear over and over. How there was no other woman for him but her. That he craved her—and only her—day and night and night and day. And that his heart—and his body—were hers and hers alone.

He pulled back, chest heaving as he made love to her with his eyes, gently brushing her hair from her face. “I never have and I never will betray you, Amy—you have my solemn vow on that because you are the love of my life.”

He cradled her face in his hands with such tenderness, more saltwater brimmed in her eyes. “But more importantly, you are the soulmate God entrusted to me, to have and to hold from this day forward, to love and to cherish till death do us part.”

The edge of her lip ticked up. “Which will be sooner than you think if you ever do, Henry Dennehy.”

“Oh, babe …” He nuzzled her mouth with such reverence, she melted in his arms, and being the hotshot that he was, he slowly prodded her back on the couch with a low groan, deepening his kiss while he artfully maneuvered first one shoe off and then the other. “I missed you so much, babe, my head was in the clouds even on the ground.”

He automatically slid in alongside, gathering her in his arms while his mouth wandered to suckle the lobe of her ear. “Crowded with thoughts of this, Princess, and making love to you for the rest of our lives.”

He gently cupped her head in his hands while his smile faded to serious. “I’m sorry that vile letter gave you a scare, Amy, along with my prior hotshot reputation, no doubt. But you have my word, Mrs. Dennehy, that I will do everything in my power to seal your trust in me from this day forward.”

“Oh, Henry, I do trust you,” she whispered, more tears stinging when she realized she actually did, or at least was well on her way.

“No, not me, Amy.” Still holding her head, he tenderly caressed the side of her face with his thumbs. “Trust God … because He’s the One I answer to now.”

Her heart squeezed as a single tear trailed her cheek to catch in the crease of his hand. She lunged to kiss him, and a dangerous chuckle rumbled from his lips.

“But when it comes to this?” His grin was wicked as he slowly tugged her blouse from her skirt, skillfully unlatching all of the buttons before descending with a wink. “Trust me.”

Chapter Forty-One

“Ah … ah … ah …” Beck gave a slight shake of his head as Julia started to move her pawn for the third time in a row in their first weekly game of chess. Apparently Julia had cleaned Winnie’s room up in record time when she’d learned Charity had asked Beck to tutor her in chess.

The little sweetheart had been so excited, she’d literally rushed into the living room and skidded to a stop with cheeks flushed and near out of breath. Beck had grinned outright, thinking for the umpteenth time that Winnie’s little sister Jewels was a true gem.

She now looked up wide-eyed, her pawn dangling mid-air while Beck smiled.

He nodded to her pawn. “A common mistake new chess players make is moving the same piece repeatedly. Believe me, I know—I did it myself when I first learned how to play chess. That’s your third play with the pawn, Jewels, which wastes time, giving your opponent an edge. A good rule of thumb is to develop a new piece every move to better take control of the center.”