Gail Gaymer Martin - In His Eyes

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.”

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 gail@gailmartin.com. Visit her Web site at www.gailmartin.com.

Gail Gaymer Martin

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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.

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

“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 her father. When he invited her in, she drew a lengthy breath and turned the knob.

Syl Bordini sat behind his desk with his back to the door, a telephone receiver pressed against his ear. When Ellene stepped inside, he swivelled to face her, a grim look wrinkling his brow. “I’ll have Ellene call you today to set an appointment. Thanks again for thinking of us.”

Ellene stood close to the door, hoping his lecture for snarling at him would be quick and painless, but when he lowered the receiver, he motioned toward a chair, his look more tender than she expected. She closed the door behind her and settled across from him.

“I’m sorry, Dad, for—”

He waved his hand to brush away her words. “Ellene, this is our livelihood. Sometimes we must deal with people we’d rather not, but if they’re honest and need our services, then we work with them. You wanted a position with the company, and I trusted that you could do the job.”

He looked at her above his reading glasses, and she squirmed. “I can, Dad. Have I ever disappointed you?”

“Not at all. I’m pleased with your work. Very pleased.”

A faraway look filled his eyes, and Ellene figured his thoughts had drifted to her brother who’d died in Bosnia.

His focus returned, and he shook his head. “Today I’m disappointed that you let the past influence your judgment. Business is business.”

“I know business is business,” she said. “But this is different, Dad. It’s Connor. We were engaged, and it ended badly. We have other employees who could do the job.”

“He asked for you.”

The words jarred her. Why? She searched for a logical reason, but none came.

Her father leaned closer, his voice softer. “He said he trusts your judgment.”

But she didn’t trust Connor’s. She sat speechless, her mind sorting out her father’s words.

“Listen, Ellene,” he said, rising. His voice sounded like the father from her childhood. He walked around the desk and drew up a chair beside her. “I understand your feelings, but time has passed. Ten years.”

“Not quite eight,” she said. To her it still seemed like yesterday.

“Haven’t you ever made a mistake?”

The night Connor left stuck in her memory like a tack, but today, a bittersweet sensation rolled across her thoughts. “I’ve made bad choices, Dad, but—”