Page 98 of A Whim and a Prayer

“Dear God …” Mitch dropped his fork to his plate, his appetite suddenly gone.

“And another was about that awful girl in the sixth grade—Mary Lou Lambert—remember her?”

“Vaguely.”

“She was an orphan at the orphanage the same time as Winnie who used to make fun of her and tell her she was poison to anybody she loved.”

Mitch peered up, brow in a bunch. “The one she beat up at Holy Trinity?”

“Yes, which is why we switched her to St. Stephen’s, remember? Then a third nightmare had Sister Mary Clare in it—you know, that crotchety old nun at the orphanage who always threatened Winnie before we adopted her? Well in that nightmare, she’d tell Winnie the people she loved would stop loving her and she’d be all alone.”

A rare hiss of a curse slipped from Mitch’s lips.

Charity laid a hand on his arm. “Which is part of the reason she thinks she bucked me, Mitch, because she didn’t want to get too close for fear of losing my love.”

Mitch gave a slow nod. “That and you restricting her independence, sweetheart, which I hate to admit now, but you were right.”

Charity leaned in, pausing for several seconds with eyes askance. “Uh, would you mind repeating that, darling? Because I want to make sure you really heard it.”

His lips went flat as he picked up his fork to stab another bite of cheesecake. “Don’t push it, Little Girl.”

Charity sagged back in her chair with a grunt. “Don’t worry, darling, because after talking to Winnie for umpteen hours, I don’t have the energy to push anything.”

Setting his fork down with a chuckle, he hooked her waist to drag her onto his lap once more, securing her in his arms with a kiss to her hair before resting his forehead against hers. “I’ll believe that when I see it, Little Girl. So … what do we do now, oh wise one?”

“Well, I think we need to ask Alex to talk to her. He’s a psychiatrist, after all, and she says she’d be willing to talk to him because she trusts him, and Gabe as well, since she was an abused orphan too. Maybe they can help her sort out all of these deep-buried feelings. Plus, I know they will pray with her about all of this and give her God’s direction on how to proceed, so why not? She definitely needs more help than we can give her right now, Mitch, so what do you think?”

His chest rose and fell as he deposited a kiss to her cheek. “I think I married a brilliant woman whom I don’t tell near enough that she is.”

He grinned when he felt her lips tip up on a second pause. “Uh, darling, would you mind repeating that please,” she said with a tease in her tone, “because I want to make sure I really heard it.”

His chuckle rumbled against her face. “I thought you didn’t have energy to push anything.”

“Anything ‘physical,’” she emphasized. “When it comes to glowing accolades from the love of my life? Trust me, I have more than enough energy to push away.”

Shifting on his lap, she faced him head-on with soggy eyes. “Oh, Mitch—who would have believed that something so good could come out of something so bad? But after all the talking and soul-searching Winnie and I did, we are closer than I ever dreamed possible, which has been a lifelong prayer of mine.”

He gently wiped a tear from her cheek with the pad of his thumb, his smile tender. “I know, sweetheart—it’s a miracle for sure.”

“But even though we talked to the depth of our souls, I can’t shake this suspicion that there’s still more that is holding her back from feeling she’s worthy of love. And my sixth sense tells me that’s the reason she refuses to admit she’s in love with Beck or accept his love in return.”

“Well, your instincts are seldom wrong, Charity, so we need to pray about it—both your suspicions and about Alex and Gabe helping to set her free from these lies and nightmares that have tormented her.”

And so they did, Mitch’s prayer fervent and low as he held his wife in his arms, welcoming the peace that surpasses all understanding, which instantly lighted on both of their hearts and their minds.

Chapter Sixty-Seven

Tap. Tap. “Winnie? Can I come in?”

Winnie winced at the sound of Abby’s voice outside her bedroom door, a glance at her clock confirming the McGuire contingent were the first to arrive on Christmas. Laying her Bible aside—her constant companion over the last week—she rose to answer the door with more than a little trepidation. She hadn’t seen or talked to Abby—or anyone else in the family except her mom and dad and Alex and Gabe—since that awful night, so she figured it was time.

Time to apologize to her best friend.

Squaring her shoulders, Winnie flexed her fingers as she moved toward the door, totally unprepared for the sob that bubbled up when she opened to see her cousin’s face, strained with worry. “Oh, Abby!” she cried, swallowing her cousin up in a tearful hug, “I am so very sorry …”

“Shhh … it’s okay, Winnie.” Abby ushered her into the room with a tender hold, closing the door before directing her to the bed and sitting beside her. “It’s all over and done, Cuz.”

“But … but do you forgive me, Abs?” Winnie asked with a heave, swiping at her eyes. “For abusing our friendship?”