Made for Each Other

“I’m not following you,” Aimee said with a low laugh. “I promise. I didn’t know you attended this church.”

“Yes, and it’s great that you’re here. Let me find a good seat for you.” Once seated, Aimee surreptitiously watched Jacob as he carried out his duties as usher. His voice was compassionate. He was gracious to old and young alike. She noticed again how captivatingly handsome he was, and decided that Jacob’s nature matched his appearance.

Was it just coincidence or was it significant that she had encountered him three times in as many days? Her Granny always used the expression, “It was meant to be.” Could that be true of her and Jacob?

IRENE BRAND

Writing has been a lifelong interest of this author, who says that she started her first novel when she was eleven years old and hasn’t finished it yet. However, since 1984 she’s published more than thirty contemporary and historical novels and three nonfiction titles. She started writing professionally in 1977 after she completed her master’s degree in history at Marshall University. Irene taught in secondary public schools for twenty-three years, but retired in 1989 to devote herself to writing.

Consistent involvement in the activities of her local church has been a source of inspiration for Irene’s work. Traveling with her husband, Rod, to all fifty states, and to thirty-two foreign countries has also inspired her writing. Irene is grateful to the many readers who have written to say that her inspiring stories and compelling portrayals of characters with strong faith have made a positive impression on their lives. You can write to her at P.O. Box 2770, Southside, WV 25187 or visit her Web site at http://www.irenebrand.com.

Made for Each Other

Irene Brand

For if you forgive men when they sin against you,

your heavenly Father will also forgive you.

—Matthew 6:14

To the youth of Harmony Baptist Church

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

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Questions for Discussion

Chapter One

“You’re going to do what?”

Aimee Blake pivoted quickly away from the vanity where she was applying her makeup and stared at her daughter. With a bulging backpack slung over her shoulder, Samantha leaned carelessly against the doorjamb, her face serene, as if she hadn’t just tossed a bombshell in her mother’s lap.

“I’m going to ride to school with Jennifer. She’s picking me up.”

“Why?”

“Duh—because she can drive now,” Samantha said, avoiding her mother’s stare. “Jennifer’s parents bought her the most awesome car. I’ll just ride to school with her from now on.”

“Without asking me if it’s okay?”

Samantha rolled her heavily made-up, smoky-gray eyes, too heavily made up for Aimee’s taste. “Puh-leeze, Mom. I’m not a kid anymore.”

“Well, at fourteen, you aren’t an adult, either,” Aimee stated decisively. “Besides, Jennifer hasn’t had her driver’s license more than a month.”

Samantha shrugged dismissively. “So? She hasn’t gotten a ticket. Proves she’s a safe driver.”

Aimee stifled a grin. Even in her frustration, she was amused at Samantha’s adolescent reasoning. Before she could discuss it any further with Samantha, Jennifer Nibert’s screeching tires announced her arrival as she sped into the driveway. A slamming car door indicated that she was on her way to the house.

“You can go with Jennifer this morning, but we’ll discuss the future tonight,” Aimee said quietly. She stepped into the hallway a second before the front door opened and Jennifer wandered inside. As usual, Aimee was startled by the girl’s appearance. She was dressed totally in black, except for the silver chains around her waist and neck. Aimee counted four earrings in her left ear, two in the other one. Heavy makeup disguised Jennifer’s beautiful facial features and gold-green eyes.

“Ready, Sam? We’ve got to go. Oh, hi, Mrs. Blake. Come and see my new car.”

With an inward sigh, Aimee stepped out on the porch. Jennifer pointed with pride to the two-door blue sports car parked in the driveway. “Pretty sweet ride, huh, Mrs. B.?” she asked Aimee.

“It’s awesome!” Samantha agreed. “I love it already.”

Although Aimee was worried at the thought of a girl as seemingly immature as Jennifer being turned loose in that car and with Samantha in it, she admitted, “It’s very pretty. But it isn’t a toy, Jennifer, so drive carefully.”

“I always do,” Jennifer said, and a beaming grin crossed her friendly, if a little scary-looking, face.

The two girls slid into the leather-covered bucket seats and fastened their seat belts. Jennifer threw the car into Reverse and backed toward the street, then stopped abruptly.

Samantha rolled down her window. “Hey, Mom. I forgot to tell you. I’m going to a sleepover at Jennifer’s tonight. Okay? Bye.” She closed the window and Jennifer quickly backed into the street and sped away.

This announcement, coming on top of her daughter’s surprise decision to stop riding to school with her, was more than Aimee could stomach. Her first reaction was anger, but the shock of Samantha’s sudden independence—or was it rebellion?—yielded quickly to concern. Aimee hadn’t suspected her daughter of deceiving her before, but she was convinced now that Samantha had deliberately waited to tell her about the sleepover after she thought it would be too late for her mother to forbid it.

Aimee wiped away the angry tears that threatened to spill from the corners of her eyes as she returned to the house. The pain in her heart was beyond tears. Was she losing her daughter, or was Samantha just growing up?

Glancing at the clock, she knew she didn’t have time to fret about the situation now. She had to be at work in forty-five minutes. She rushed into the bedroom to finish dressing for the day. Feeling in need of an extra boost to her self-confidence, Aimee sprayed on some expensive perfume she’d recently bought as a gift to herself. The aromatic lavender fragrance swirled around her as she left the house. Dreading the workday, Aimee drove out of the cul-de-sac where she’d lived for several years.

With a few minutes to spare, Aimee arrived at Eastside Elementary School where she had worked as a secretary ever since the year Samantha had started kindergarten there. As she parked, Aimee glanced across the street to the high school where her daughter was now a student. Where had the time gone? She saw Jennifer’s car in the parking lot and breathed a sigh of relief that they’d arrived safely.

Aimee glanced in the side mirror as she stepped out of the car, noting that her brows were drawn together and her lips were drawn tight, too. She couldn’t greet her coworkers and the children looking as uptight as she felt, so she forced herself to put on a smile. Her efforts fell a little short, but at least she looked slightly more pleasant as she hurried toward the door.

She slowed her steps when she encountered a tall, muscular, nicely dressed man leading a boy with a backpack toward the building. At the door, the man turned and saw Aimee. His mouth parted in a smile that highlighted the most attractive face Aimee had seen in a long time. His elegant, handsome features hinted at a vital power that attracted her. A swath of curly hair hung casually over his smooth forehead.

“Good morning,” he said, standing aside to let her enter first.

“Thanks, and good morning to you, too,” she answered, hopefully sounding more pleasant than she felt. Aimee thought she knew all the parents, but she was sure she hadn’t seen this man before. He wasn’t the kind of man one would easily forget. She glanced at the boy. She didn’t recognize him either. Judging from the little guy’s anxious expression, Aimee figured he probably was a new student.

“Do you work here?” At Aimee’s nod, the man continued. “Alex needs an entrance permit for being absent several days,” the man said. So the boy was already enrolled. Odd that she’d never seen him. “Where can we get it? He has a doctor’s excuse.”

“I can arrange that for you,” Aimee assured him. “The office is down this hallway.” She motioned to the hall on her right.

“Good,” the man said. “C’mon, Alex.”

The man held the office door for Aimee. She pointed to a row of chairs against the wall of the reception area, saying, “Just take a seat here for a few minutes until I boot up my computer. We’ll have Alex on his way to class soon.”

She went to her desk, laid down her purse and coat, and booted up the computer. She motioned to the pair to come into her office and take the seats in front of her desk.

“What’s your last name, Alex?”

The boy mumbled something, but she didn’t understand what he said. She lifted questioning eyes to the man who watched the boy with a tender, brown-eyed gaze.

He laid his arm on the boy’s shoulder. “This is Alex Putney. Give the lady your doctor’s excuse, Alex.”

Checking her computer records, Aimee noticed that Alex had been a student since the first of the year. He pulled a crumpled piece of paper from his pocket and handed it to Aimee. The excuse for nine days had been written by a reputable doctor, so Aimee filled in the permit to send the child back to class.

“There you go, Alex,” she said as she handed him the paper. “Sorry you’ve been sick.”

The man Aimee had assumed was Alex’s father reached across the desk to shake her hand. His fingers were warm and firm as they gripped hers, and the friendly smile he gave her suddenly wrapped Aimee in warmth. At the door of her office, he turned toward her, smiled again and said, “Have a nice day.”

Aimee wasn’t anticipating a good day, but it lifted her spirits some just to have someone wish she would.

Throughout the morning as she answered the phone, directed calls and entered report-card information into the computer, she thought of the thick, curly brown hair and dark eyes of the man who’d greeted her so warmly. As she thought about him, her day brightened a bit.

But as her eyes scanned the computer screen and her hands moved automatically across the keyboard, uppermost in Aimee’s mind was the “new” Samantha. Aimee had known the day would come when her daughter would broaden her horizons, but she wasn’t convinced that either of them was ready for it yet. She took her role as a single parent seriously. Too seriously? she wondered. She didn’t think so. At barely fourteen, Samantha still needed a great deal of parental supervision, didn’t she? More than anything, Aimee wanted to be a good mother, and she was worried about the path Samantha might be heading down.

Lisa, the financial secretary, stopped by Aimee’s desk. “I don’t know about you, but I’m glad we have the afternoon off. I’m bushed.” Lisa slanted a curious glance at Aimee. “You don’t look so good either.”

“I’m all right.” She glanced at the clock. “Only another hour. It does give us a nice break when they have countywide in-service workshops for elementary teachers.”

“Got any plans for the afternoon?”

“The weekly grocery shopping, but I may hold that off until tomorrow.”

When Aimee put her fingers back on the keyboard, Lisa took the hint. “See ya,” she called as she returned to her office.

An hour later when Aimee left the building, a long afternoon loomed before her. Normally, she would be planning dinner on her way home, but unless she put her foot down and told Samantha she couldn’t go to the sleepover, she wouldn’t need to prepare dinner. When she entered the house, it seemed unusually quiet, and she thought sadly that she might as well get used to it.

“Oh, for cryin’ out loud,” she muttered. “Stop feeling sorry for yourself. Look on the bright side. For fourteen years, Samantha hasn’t given you any trouble, so count your blessings and deal with each situation as it comes.”

Through the window, she saw her friend Erica Snyder driving into her garage. Momentarily, she wished that she could be as calm about life as her neighbor, who had a tendency to shrug off trouble when it came her way.

When the phone rang a few moments later, Aimee figured it was Erica, who must have seen Aimee’s car in the driveway.

“Hi,” Erica said cheerfully. “Tonight is our singles get-together at church. There’s going to be a good program. Want to go?”

Erica was constantly trying to fix Aimee up, and she often invited Aimee to go with her to this monthly meeting at Memorial Church. She’d always turned down the invitation before, but now that Samantha was getting independent, perhaps the time had come for her to try something new.

“All right. I will.” As soon as the words were out of her mouth, Aimee regretted her impulsive decision.

Silence greeted her for a moment. “Well, not that I’m unhappy that you’re finally going with me,” Erica said, “but I am curious. Why the change of heart?”

“Samantha is going to a sleepover tonight, and I don’t want to stay home alone.”

“Great! The meeting starts at seven. I’ll pick you up at six-thirty.”

After Erica hung up, Aimee sat at the table and stared into space. “Now, why did you do that?” she finally said aloud. For a moment she considered calling Erica and telling her she’d changed her mind, but Aimee didn’t want to disappoint her friend. For the first time, Aimee realized that she’d been so intent on making a good life for her daughter that she didn’t really have a life of her own. Maybe it was time to change that.

Appraising herself critically in the mirror, Aimee decided that her long black hair needed a trim. And as she surveyed her image, she suddenly thought of the man she’d met at school this morning. He’d been dressed impeccably in a dark gray suit, white shirt and a navy tie. Aimee fleetingly wondered what he had thought of her. Had he even noticed her? She hadn’t even gotten his name.

Making up her mind quickly, Aimee called her hairdresser, who said she could work Aimee in. Two hours later, Aimee wondered if she’d taken leave of her senses when she came out of the mall with a short layered bob and a new outfit.

She was in the bedroom looking at her purchases when Samantha and Jennifer breezed into the house at four o’clock.

“Hey, Mom,” Samantha called. “I’m home.”

Aimee walked down the hall to meet them.

“Hello, Mrs. Blake,” Jennifer said. “You look awesome.”

Aimee was pleased at Jennifer’s comment, since obviously Samantha hadn’t noticed. “I had a trim this afternoon. The hairdresser also shampooed and styled my hair, which always relaxes me.”

“That’s what my mom says. I fix my own hair unless I need color.”

Aimee compared Jennifer’s black, Gothic hairstyle with her daughter’s long, natural blond hair worn in a high ponytail. Aimee’s refusal to allow Samantha to wear her hair like Jennifer’s was another recent source of friction between them.

“Don’t you think your mother’s hair looks cool, Sam?”

With a careless shrug of her shoulders, Samantha said, “Kind of. It doesn’t look like you, Mom. Hey, I need snacks and drinks for the sleepover. You can fix me some stuff while I get my things ready. C’mon, Jen. Help me pack.”

Samantha seemed tense, as if she expected Aimee to stop her from going to the sleepover. Aimee was annoyed at her daughter’s demanding attitude. She could have at least said “please.” As she opened the refrigerator door, Aimee wondered what would happen if she did tell Samantha that she couldn’t go. Afraid that her daughter would go anyway, Aimee wasn’t ready to put her to the test.

As she scanned the refrigerator, Aimee knew she should have gone to the grocery store rather than the hairdresser. Well, it was too late now. She didn’t have time to buy groceries and be ready when Erica wanted to leave. She gathered some chips, cookies and pop and put them in a basket.

Samantha’s room was on the ground floor of their split-level home, and Aimee walked to the head of the stairs and called, “Your snacks are ready. You’re welcome.”

Her new clothes lay on the bed, but her daughter’s rotten attitude dimmed Aimee’s pleasure in the beige linen pants and jacket. She put on the loose-fitting pants, pulled a white cotton tee over her head and slipped into the buttonless jacket, which featured white trim on the cuffs and lapel. She searched in her jewelry box and chose a gold chain and matching earrings, a gift from Steve when they’d become engaged. She still missed him.

Glancing in the floor-length mirror, Aimee scrutinized her appearance. She looked okay, but she still wished she hadn’t agreed to go with Erica because she dreaded telling Samantha where she was going. When she heard the girls coming upstairs, Aimee walked into the hallway.

“I’ll be out for a few hours this evening.”

Samantha whirled around and looked at her mother. “Excuse me? Since when do you have somewhere to go on Friday night?” Her long hair was hanging loose now, and with a quick flip of her fingers, Samantha brushed it away from her face.

“Since I decided to go to a meeting with Erica.”

“What kind of meeting?”

Aimee definitely didn’t like her daughter’s attitude now. She should be quizzing Samantha about her evening activities, not the other way around. But she wouldn’t embarrass Samantha by reprimanding her in Jennifer’s presence. Still, she couldn’t tolerate this sort of behavior, and she would deal with it later. With a sinking heart, she wondered what Steve would think if he knew she had allowed their daughter to develop such a belligerent attitude.

As kindly as she could, Aimee said, “It really isn’t any of your business where I’m going.” Although her nerves were on edge, Aimee felt like laughing at the look of disbelief spreading across Samantha’s face.

“What is with you, Mom?” Samantha demanded.

“Nothing is with me. I have a right as an adult to have my own plans, but I don’t mind telling you where I’ll be,” Aimee said tensely. “However, it would have been nice if you’d asked me in a more civil tone. I’m going to a singles meeting at Erica’s church.”

“That’s cool!” Jennifer said. “Go for it, Mrs. B.”

But Aimee could tell by looking at her daughter that she didn’t think it was cool. Was it anger or fear she detected in Samantha’s eyes?

“You’re kidding, right?”

Aimee shook her head. “No. Erica invited me, and since you’re going to be away overnight, I couldn’t see any reason to spend the evening alone. What time will you be home tomorrow?”

“I don’t know,” Samantha said sullenly and picked up the basket of food.

Lifting her perfectly groomed eyebrows, Jennifer glanced sideways at her friend before she said, “I’ve got a dentist appointment at nine o’clock, Mrs. Blake. I’ll drop her off before then.”

Surprisingly, Jennifer was a polite, seemingly well-behaved girl, and Aimee wondered if she had been judging the older girl too harshly based on her looks. She blamed Jennifer for a lot of Samantha’s recent rebellious ways, but perhaps it was time to place the blame squarely on Samantha.

“Thanks,” Aimee said to Jennifer. “Have fun tonight,” she added.

Samantha didn’t answer, but Jennifer said, “That’s a cool outfit, Mrs. Blake. See ya tomorrow.”

Apparently Samantha hadn’t noticed what her mother had on. She turned and assessed Aimee’s new clothes suspiciously, casting another critical glance at her mother before she gave an impatient shrug and tossed her long blond hair defiantly. She left the house without a word and slammed the door behind her.

Aimee dropped into the lounge chair before the window in the family room and covered her face with her hands. She heard the chickadees and nuthatches at the feeder outside the window, but she didn’t look up. Watching the pretty little birds usually lifted her spirits, but not now when her mind reeled with confusion. Soon her confusion turned to anger—not only at Samantha but also at herself. For years she had catered to her daughter’s every whim, so what could she expect?

She clenched her jaw to stop the tears in her heart from reaching her eyes. She would address Samantha’s rebellion later, but she wouldn’t let this evening be ruined. She needed a night out. Later, when she heard Erica’s car horn, Aimee pasted a smile on her face and left the house.

“Well, don’t you look sharp!” Erica exclaimed when Aimee opened the car door and sat beside her. “That’s a beautiful suit.”

Aimee fastened her seat belt, and Erica pulled away from the sidewalk. “I haven’t bought any clothes for months, so I went shopping today,” Aimee said. “How do you like my hair?”

“Gorgeous! It takes years off of your age.” Erica eyed her sharply. “But your eyes are pink. Been crying?”

“You’re too observant,” Aimee answered with a sigh. “Samantha wasn’t happy when she heard where I was going.”

“So…” Erica persisted.

“So I’ve made up my mind to start cutting the apron strings, and I don’t mean to separate Samantha from me. She’s already done that,” Aimee said. “I’m beginning to cut myself loose from her.”

“It won’t be easy,” Erica said sympathetically. “But for your own good, as well as Samantha’s, it’s time. In only a few years, she’ll be off to college.”

“I hope so, but it’s hard. I feel like I haven’t been a good mom, or Samantha wouldn’t be so rebellious.”

“Oh, it isn’t you,” Erica assured her. “It’s part of growing up. Just keep praying for Samantha.”

“Yes, I intend to,” Aimee said, although her prayer life was something else she’d neglected in the past few years.

Twenty minutes later, Erica bypassed the brick church building facing Madison Street and drove to an adjacent one-story metal structure housing a fellowship hall and classrooms.

“Please don’t make a big deal out of my coming to this meeting,” Aimee said. “I may never visit again, so I don’t want to call a lot of attention to myself.”

Erica’s eyebrows arched provocatively.

“I’m serious,” Aimee said.

“I’ll be good,” Erica promised as she got out of the car and walked toward the building. “I’m so happy to see this change in you that I won’t do anything you don’t like.”

Following her, Aimee took a deep breath, suddenly nervous and wishing she had stayed home. As they walked down a short hallway, Aimee lagged behind Erica. Hearing the mingled voices of many people and occasional bursts of laughter, Aimee wondered what she was getting herself into.

“Ready?” Erica asked as they neared a doorway.

Taking a deep breath and squaring her shoulders, Aimee nodded.

Chapter Two

Several times throughout the day Jacob Mallory thought of the secretary he’d met at the elementary school this morning. As he counseled clients at his counseling service, the memory of her sweet, lavender scent nearly distracted him more than once. Aimee Blake, he’d noticed on the nameplate that rested on her desk. Although he’d lived in the small town of Benton for most of his life, he had never met her, which made him wonder if Aimee was new to town.

He worked late and went directly from work to the singles meeting, and as he drove the ten blocks, he thought again of Aimee, the woman with the gleaming dark hair and dark-blue eyes. The long lashes that framed her eyes created a stunning effect offset by her creamy complexion. But he thought he also sensed raw hurt flickering in those blue eyes, and he wondered what had caused her pain.