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“Haven’t you ever made a mistake, Ellene?” her father asked.
The night Connor left stuck in her memory, but today, a bittersweet sensation washed over her. “I’ve made bad choices, Dad, but—”
“Sin is sin. Mistakes are mistakes. The Bible teaches us to forgive so that God will forgive us our mistakes. You’re the one who ended the engagement with Connor. You need to move on with your life. You’re both adults now.”
“I have moved on.”
Her father took her hand and held it, his strong fingers covering hers. “You’ve let this grudge against Connor go on too long. I know you’ve seen other fellows, but you’ve steered so far away from marriage or commitment, I’ll die without grandkids and you’ll die an old maid.”
“I’m only twenty-six.”
“Going on forty.” He gave her a wan smile, then walked over to his desk. “Here’s Connor’s phone number.” He extended a sheet of paper. “Call him.”
GAIL GAYMER MARTIN
lives in Michigan with her husband, Bob, her dearest friend and greatest support. She loves the privilege of writing stories that touch people’s hearts and share God’s promises.
Gail is multipublished in nonfiction and over thirty works of fiction. Her novels have received numerous awards: a Booksellers Best in 2005, a Holt Medallion in 2001 and 2003, the Texas Winter Rose 2003, the American Christian Romance Writers 2002 Book of the Year Award and the Romantic Times BOOKclub Reviewers Choice as Best Love Inspired novel in 2002.
When not behind her computer, Gail enjoys a busy life—traveling, presenting workshops at conferences, as well as speaking at churches, business groups and civic events.
She enjoys hearing from her readers. Write to her at P.O. Box 760063, Lathrup Village, MI, 48076 or at [email protected]. Visit her Web site at www.gailmartin.com.
In His Eyes
Gail Gaymer Martin
MILLS & BOON
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The eye is the lamp of the body.
If your eyes are good, your whole body will be full of light.
—Matthew 6:22–23
This book is dedicated to my husband’s aunt Florence and to Bob’s wonderful Italian family. They are filled with warmth, love and compassion.
Over the years, I’ve learned so much about his family’s traditions and fun-loving spirit.
Thanks to my friend Marianne Funke who lived on Harsens Island and answered my questions. Thanks to Esther from the Riverfront Shop who provided me with more information.
As always, I thank my husband for his hard work and support. He is a hero in my eyes.
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
Letter to Reader
QUESTIONS FOR DISCUSSION
Chapter One
“You want me to do what?”
Ellene Bordini’s voice ricocheted around her office as she frowned at the telephone. She pursed her lips, waiting for her father’s peevish voice to sail back at her.
Instead, she heard silence.
“I’m sorry, Dad, but—”
“Come in here, Ellene. We need to talk.”
His quiet voice struck her harder than a slap. She’d tried his patience, and his response had been far more gentle than she’d deserved.
“All right,” she said, humbled by his manner. She hung up the phone and clasped her hands together to calm her reaction to his request.
She knew better than to attack her father. She knew because she loved him and because the Bible said to honor her parents.
A prickle ran up her arms as she thought about her brother. Her position in the construction company should have been his—had he been alive. Her dad was proud of the family business, and her goal was to prove she could handle it with a firm hand.
Ellene ran her fingers through her hair, pulling out knots at the ends. She disliked her natural curl about as much as she disliked talking with Connor Faraday, but that seemed to be what her father expected.
Checking her calendar, she speculated when she’d have time to call Connor Faraday. Her father’s insistence let her know she wouldn’t change his mind, but she’d try. How could she talk business with the man who’d broken her heart? Grasping her fortitude, she rose and strode from her small office into the corridor, then crossed the hall to her father’s office.
She lifted her hand and paused, gathering her thoughts, then rapped her knuckles against the solid wood door. For a woman of twenty-nine, she still felt a child’s reaction to facing
