Arlene James - A Love So Strong

“I appreciate that, Marcus, more than you know.” Nicole reached tentatively for his hand, willing him to understand what she couldn’t seem to come right out and say. “Soon things will be different. My brother and I will move away from my father and be free to go where we want…see who we want.”

Marcus opened his mouth as if to argue, then he blinked. The next thing she knew, he was jumping out of the car.

“Say hello to Beau for me,” Marcus prattled cheerfully, striding away.

Nicole blew out a short breath. What was that about? Had the mere suggestion that she’d like to date him sent him running for the hills?

At first, Nicole was disheartened, then realized there was plenty of time to change his mind. She was sure Marcus cared, and maybe one day he would get used to the idea….

says, “Camp meetings, mission work and the church where my parents and grandparents were prominent members permeate my Oklahoma childhood memories. It was a golden time, which sustains me yet. However, only as a young, widowed mother did I truly begin growing in my personal relationship with the Lord. Through adversity, He blessed me in countless ways, one of which is a second marriage so loving and romantic, it still feels like courtship!”

The author of over sixty novels, Arlene James now resides outside of Dallas, Texas, with her husband. Arlene says, “The rewards of motherhood have indeed been extraordinary for me. Yet I’ve looked forward to this new stage of my life.” Her need to write is greater than ever, a fact that frankly amazes her, as she’s been at it since the eighth grade!

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And this I pray,

that your love may abound still more and more

in real knowledge and all discernment.

—Philippians 1:9

For Lauren, because granddaughters

are one of God’s greatest blessings,

and Granna loves you very, very much.

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

Letter to Reader

Questions for Discussion

“Happy birthday! Happy birthday, Marcus!”

Marcus Wheeler lifted his hands and addressed the two dozen or so assembled guests.

“You shouldn’t have gone to so much trouble. The church already gave me a nice monetary gift. A man blessed with that and a family such as this can’t ask for more.” He grinned, then added, “But I’m mighty appreciative, all the same.”

“Good grief, man. We have six sisters between us,” Vince, husband of Marcus’s sister Jolie and scion of the boisterous Cutler clan, stated ruefully. “Did you really think your two sisters and my four would let your birthday slip by without a family celebration?”

Everyone laughed, and the rippling sound warmed Marcus to the very center of his soul. Not so long ago he’d been struggling to hold on to some semblance of his fractured family, and now, thanks to his two younger sisters—especially Jolie, the eldest of them—he had more family than he could keep track of.

“So far as I can tell,” drawled Kendal Oakes, husband of Marcus’s youngest sister, Connie, “the Cutlers don’t let any excuse to celebrate get past them.”

This elicited more laughter and a general chorus of “Amen, brother!”

An only child himself, Kendal confessed to Marcus that he still didn’t seem to know what to make of the loving horde who were the Cutlers, but after almost a year as a member of the clan, he was more at ease. Even his daughter, Larissa, who would be three in a couple months and was often overwhelmed by too much stimulation, had relaxed into the midst of what had proven to be a loving, sheltering family.

It was also a growing family, with Jolie and Vince expecting their first child in late June. Marcus knew that Jolie would be as wonderful a mother to her own child as she had been to her nephew, Russell, Connie’s thirty-month-old son, in his first year when Connie couldn’t take care of him.

“Can’t have too much celebration,” Connie murmured, smoothing Russell’s bright red hair as he leaned against her leg, eagerly awaiting his piece of the birthday cake.

Marcus couldn’t have agreed with her more. So much had changed in the past two years.

Connie had gotten out of prison and had since been exonerated of having taken any knowing part in the armed robbery and subsequent murder perpetrated by Russell’s biological father. The split that had occurred in the family when Connie had reclaimed Russell from Jolie’s care had been mended, thanks to Vince Cutler, who had married Jolie last Valentine’s Day, almost a year ago now. Most amazing of all, Connie and Kendal had found each other, and what had begun as a marriage of convenience had joined two broken homes into one strong, Christ-centered family.

Marcus thanked God daily for the masterful way in which He had mended the bonds shattered by death and separation, and the spotty care of the foster child system in which he and his sisters had grown up. Truly, what else could a man of God possibly ask for?

Looking around the room at no fewer than seven happy couples, Marcus had to admit to himself that it was proving to be surprisingly difficult to be the only unmarried adult member of the family. Here he sat, a single minister in want of a wife, and suddenly thirty felt positively ancient. It seemed ungrateful, even selfish, to keep asking God where his mate was, but he couldn’t help wondering. Marcus closed his eyes and sent a swift, silent prayer heavenward.

Lord, I thank You for all with which You’ve blessed me. I thank You for every person in this room. I even thank You for the room itself! You’ve given Jolie and Vince a lovely home. Connie and Kendal, too, for that matter. And I thank You for my church, Lord. Help me be satisfied with what I already have. That’s my birthday prayer. Amen.

Jolie shoved another box onto his lap.

“Ya’ll, this is just too much,” he insisted, mentally cataloging the stack of dress shirts, ties, bookmarks and religious CDs already littering the floor around his chair.

“Hush up and rip in,” Jolie counseled, dropping a kiss on his forehead as she moved back to her husband’s side on the sofa that occupied one wall of the living room, to which the party had relocated after indulging the children’s demand for cake. “That’s the last one anyway.”

Relieved to hear it, Marcus eagerly tore away the wrapping paper and pried apart the white pasteboard box beneath to reveal a large photo album tastefully bound in brown leather. A cross and the word “Wheeler” had been embossed on the front in gold.

Somewhat warily, Marcus cracked the cover. The front page contained grainy black-and-white photographs of their great-grandparents Edna and Bledsoe Wheeler.